Get Away
by twenteseven
Summary: AU Stendan. Brendan needs to get him, Eileen and the kids out of the country to keep them safe so he books them a last minute holiday, where he meets Ste, their holiday rep. He finds he can't keep away from Ste no matter how hard he tries to begin with. Both of them have secrets, but can they find the strength to put love above everything else?
1. Chapter 1 - Day One

_**A/N: So, I came up with this idea for a fic because I wanted to write something AU. Brendan and Eileen are still together with the kids, Ste and Amy aren't together anymore but Ste still thinks he is straight. Both their personalities and backstories are the same as in the show. Rated M for obvious reasons ;)**_

_**Please let me know what you think of the idea, and whether I should carry on with it. I envisage it being quite a long story so apologies if it seems a bit slow to start with.**_

_**Thanks for reading :)**_

Brendan stood at the bottom of the staircase, bags packed around him, staring impatiently at the door and waiting for the inevitable inquisition when it finally opened.

He knew this was rash; knew it would seem completely out of character and raise nothing but suspicion in his wife, but he was all out of options. He had to get away from here, not just for his safety but more so for theirs.

He glanced at his surroundings, the large open plan living area that spread out before him, tastefully decorated and filled with designer Italian furniture. This was their home – their safety. His and Eileen's and Declan's and Paddy's. Except it wasn't that anymore, was it? It wasn't safe for them any longer – they had to get out of there.

He had worked all his life to provide this kind of environment for his family, always kept them so far away from the type of work he did that he naively believed he could keep them safe; that the two sides of his life would never crash into one another; that there would never be this kind of tragedy. But he was wrong.

The three storey, five bedroom detached house in the Chester suburbs; the expensive and highly regarded artwork that hung on the walls; the state of the art games room he had set up for the boys and their friends. The collection of iPads in the corner of the room; the lavish birthday gifts and meals and romantic weekends away for him and Eileen; the never ending supply of money for interior design, expensive and unnecessary kitchen utensils, each and every latest fad as it came and went. The Brady's had it all.

And it was meant to be Brendan who shouldered the burden for this lifestyle. He could cope with that – he knew it was up to the man in the household to provide for his family, and he would go to any lengths to do that. In all of his 28 years he had always done what was right by them. He had always done what was right by everyone.

When he got Eileen pregnant at 18, he had married her and become the father to Declan that he always wished he had had for himself; when they were married he treated her like a princess and fulfilled his marital duties, all the while knowing in the back of his mind this wasn't enough for him; when Paddy was born 2 years later he stepped it up and went looking for work – better paid work – and he accepted the risks that that level of crime carried. Except now, the risks seemed all too real.

He heard voices outside the door and stood up, ready for the barrage of questions he was about to face. He couldn't tell them the whole truth, he couldn't bring himself to admit how much he had let them all down. He just needed to get away, and he needed to move quickly.

Eileen was first through the door, followed quickly by the two boys. They seemed oblivious to the fact their Dad was home at this time – he was never usually there at all – rushing straight into the lounge and grabbing their iPads, both getting stuck into a new level of Candy Crush.

Eileen stood frozen in the doorway, eyeing Brendan and the packed bags at his feet with concern. The thought fleetingly crossed her mind that this was it – he was leaving her. She had always suspected that there was something missing between them, and she was all too well aware that he had only married her in the first place because he had gotten her pregnant. She was never quite sure what it was that their marriage lacked – he never showed an interest in other women, so it couldn't be to do with sex. They slept together frequently in the beginning, but things had died off in the past couple of years, although she knew from her friends that this was nothing to be worried about in a marriage of 10 years. He always seemed distant on the odd occasions they slept together now – as if he had something completely different on his mind. She knew it was something they lacked, but could never quite understand _what_.

"Brendan," she questioned, expression full of concern and unease, "Brendan, what are ye doing?"

Brendan sighed as he looked at his wife, struggling to maintain his strong, confident aura, when inside he was panicking in a way which seemed foreign to him.

"Eileen," he started, attempting to seem relaxed and upbeat, but the speed at which he spoke betrayed his panic, "I've booked us all a holiday. Thought it'd be nice, y'know, get away for a couple a weeks. Get away from here."

Eileen eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds, realisation slowly setting in that he meant they were going_ now, _that there was something more that Brendan wasn't letting on, but that she needed to listen to him.

"What d'ye mean, Brendan? Why have ye got the bags packed already?" she asked.

"We need to go now," he tried not to come across too desperate, "like, _right now, _Eileen."

"What?" she questioned back, shock seeping through her tone, "I can't just up and leave now."

"Why not, Eileen? It's not like ye have to work is it? The kids are on school holidays. I...I found a deal online and we gotta leave, we gotta go now Eileen," he pleaded with his eyes, hoping she would know the seriousness of this without him having to spell it out to her, "_please._"

Eileen sighed resignedly. Brendan never begged. He had never pleaded with her like this before and it worried her. She was vaguely aware of the life he led outside of their four walls – she had never been happy about it, but she knew what she would have to live without if they didn't have his money, so she turned a blind eye. She realised now that maybe she had her priorities wrong – maybe it was better to live a modest lifestyle and not come home to find your husband pleading with you to go on the run to get away from whatever danger he had put you and your family in, in order to keep you in the lifestyle to which you had become accustomed.

"Ok," she conceded, "Where -"

"Thank ye, Eileen," he jumped in before she could ask anything, "I've got all our things packed, I'll get them in the car whilst you round the boys up. Be quick, please Eileen."

He grabbed two of the suitcases and headed out of the door, leaving Eileen stood in the hallway shell shocked. She shook her head and slowly tried to pull herself out of it, before going into the lounge and breaking the news to the boys – plastering a smile on her face as she got them excited, desperately hoping they couldn't pick up on the fear behind her eyes.

She got them out into the car and Brendan went back inside the house to make sure everything was in order before they left. He took one last look around the place, mentally photographing the way the place looked, picturing all the memories he had there. He didn't know if they would ever be able to come back; and if they ever did, whether it would look anything like it did now – no doubt they would come and look for him here first of all, probably turn the place upside down in a bid to find out where he had gone.

He sighed as he closed the front door behind him, locking it and then locking the porch door as well. He didn't know where they went from here. The holiday, it was just a ruse to get them away straight away, to buy him some time. He didn't know how he was going to tell his family what he had done.

-s-

The flight was long and uncomfortable – they were used to business class as least, and despite trying to upgrade they had been left to sit in economy with the rest of the Brits abroad. It was loud and cramped, the seats obviously not designed for anybody over 5'10" and Brendan found himself having to stretch his feet out into the aisle, much to the annoyance of the stewardess. He wasn't used to this, and could feel his headache worsening as the little girl in the chair behind him insisted on kicking into his back every five minutes.

When they landed four hours later he was the first off the plane, Dec and Paddy marching behind him, Eileen waiting around and patiently letting off other passengers before her. They collected their bags and made their way through the arrivals gate, the boys jumping around enthusiastically, asking what language they spoke in Cyprus and whether their hotel was near the beach.

Brendan spotted the rep for their holiday company standing in amongst the others, a pretty petite girl with impressively long brunette locks, styled to perfection despite the stifling heat.

"Oh, put yer tongue away," Eileen snapped at him as she saw him looking, "We getting a taxi?"

Brendan shrugged, knowing Eileen had assumed he was checking the girl out. Sometimes he thought it was better for her to think he was, like any red blooded male would do, so he didn't answer her back. He knew this girl wasn't going to do anything for him, but Eileen could never know the reason why.

"I didn't get a chance to get any money changed, Eileen. We'll have to get the coach."

She tutted in response, such a spoilt brat sometimes his wife was, as she headed over to the girl to give their names, watching as she directed Eileen to one of the coaches out the front of the door.

Eileen ushered him over and he loaded their bags onto the coach before boarding, taking their seats along the back row, the boys bouncing up and down excitedly. Brendan hid himself in the corner. He wasn't in the mood for socialising. He didn't particularly want to talk to anyone, and didn't want them to talk to him. The coach filled up slowly with beaming excited faces, fanning themselves with bits of paper as they accustomed to the searing heat. Brendan sneered at each and every one of them, sinking further into his seat and staring out of the window, watching as the Cypriot bus drivers shouted animatedly to each other as they loaded up their coaches.

"Right, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," came the pretty girls Northern accent over the coach microphone, "how are we all doing today? My names Anne, I'm one of your reps so if you need anything at all just come and say hello. We'll be getting off in the next couple of minutes, just waiting for my colleague and then it's about 35 minutes to the hotel. We'll be coming round to hand out your welcome packs on the way..."

She sounded bright and breezy, as if she didn't have a care in the world. Brendan fazed out the sound of her voice, resenting the ease with which she seemed to captivate her audience, the flighty attitude she seemed to have towards life. He wished he could be that carefree, but that had never been who he was.

"...Oh, here he is," Anne continued, her slight rise in volume bringing Brendan back into the real world, "right, let's get off."

Brendan heard the microphone muffle over the speakers, assumed she was handing it over to her colleague. Sure enough, another voice came bellowing into his ears.

"Hiyaaa! Y'alright everyone?" he paused as he waited for the muted response from the passengers, "Right, I'm Ste, your other rep. It's proper hot 'ere 'int it!"

Brendan visibly cringed at the sound of the man's chavvy Manchester accent, how common he sounded, but he couldn't deny there was something about it that grabbed his attention, and he slowly peered above the seats out of intrigue. He saw a young lad, couldn't make out his features but could tell he was skinny, lean, and most likely toned underneath the bright yellow polo he wore as his uniform. He was chatting away down the microphone animatedly, flinging his arms around as he spoke, and he could hear the other holidaymakers on the coach laughing away as he chatted. He felt his palms start to sweat, his cheek twitching slightly at the sight of this boy before him; felt the urge to see him up close, was sure he would be a sight to behold. He reminded him of someone. Someone he hadn't seen or thought about in a long while. Someone who reminded him of a promise he made to himself, of a life he forced himself to turn his back on.

_No, _he silently told himself, _you're not going back there_.

But he couldn't deny there was something about this boy that was drawing him in. He wanted to see him up close. He wanted to make out his features. He wondered what colour his eyes were. He wondered how soft his skin would feel under his touch. He wondered how he would look in the midst of a world-ending orgasm that Brendan knew he could give him.

He snapped himself out of it. He couldn't have these thoughts. Never again.

"Fucking queer," he hissed under his breathe to Eileen, who shot him a look and slapped his arm playfully.

Brendan swallowed as he turned to gaze out of the window, desperately trying to ignore the quickened pace of his heart rate and the incessant babbling of the Mancunian over the speakers. He needed to control himself.

-s-

When the coach arrived at the hotel Ste got off and headed to Reception, letting Anne guide everyone off the bus and into the lobby. Once she had distributed all the welcome packs and the complimentary fruity cocktail, she joined Ste at the Reception desk with her paperwork.

"Right, you take the first four parties on the list and I'll take the next four, ok?" Anne suggested.

"Yeah, sound," Ste replied without his usual vigour, his expression solemn and withdrawn.

"Hey," Anne comforted him as she threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into her with a hug, "Stop thinking about it, yeah. You can speak to Amy later about it, she might come round. But you gotta slap that smile onto your face now for these lot, yeah?"

She looked at him expectantly as he nodded, sighing as he squared up his shoulders and plastered the fakest of smiles over his mouth, aiming it at Anne. She smiled back warmly and cocked here eyebrow, Ste winking back at her in this familiar exchange they seemed to share so easily.

"Ok," Ste turned and addressed the group of uncomfortable looking holidaymakers milling around the lobby, smiled at the way the newbies always made themselves stand out, always there in their travelling clothes, far too overdressed for this 40 degree heat.

"Can I have the Brady family please," his eyes darted around expectantly, waiting for them to make themselves known. He saw a pretty brunette stand and smile at him, two young boys holding each of her hands, and the husband obstructed from view behind them.

"Hi," Eileen spoke softly as she walked over to Ste, "that's us."

"Great stuff, if you wanna follow me I'll take you up to yer room."

Ste turned on his heels and pushed the button for the lift, starting his usual conversation with the lady about how their flight had been, what the weather was like back home, how they were forecast sun for the next two weeks so they were going to have a great time. She smiled back at him warmly and answered back with all the usual cliché's – _We had our 2 days of summer back in May_, and the old classic which made his toes curl every time, _You're so lucky living the life of riley over here in the sun_. Like sunshine could actually make all of your problems disappear.

It was only when the lift doors opened and he walked inside, the whole family following him, that he caught sight of the husband – a tall, dark featured man with an almost comical moustache, but one which he seemed to carry off perfectly. He must have been just over 6' tall, broad shouldered with strong powerful arms, but a lithe torso and a beautiful curve to his back. He was wearing grey suit trousers and a crisp white shirt, and despite the heat he didn't seem at all flustered, as if he could just adjust himself to any conditions. Ste felt his palms sweating slightly, assumed it was a little intimidation or maybe hero worship of some sort. It couldn't be anything else. It wasn't like he was attracted to the man, was it? He couldn't help but feel intrigued by him though, felt drawn in as if he wanted to know more about him and his life.

He continued to eye him up and down as the lift went up to the top floor, his eyes travelling down over his arse. He swallowed as he took in how perfect it looked in he soft grey suit trousers. Who was this man? He stood out to him, he carried this air of confidence, wasn't like the other holidaymakers who shuffled around like sheep, waiting for the next instructions. He wanted to know this man, felt a need to get close to him, to find out his secrets and get inside his head.

The lift pinged open and the awkward silence lifted, Ste careering out of the lift first and the Brady family following him towards their room.

"Right, this is you guys here," he opened up the room then held out the key for one of them to take from him, "Anything you need just call 0 on the phone, and I'll be in the lobby every afternoon between 1 and 4 if you have any problems, just pop down to see me. And will we be seeing you at the welcome meeting tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course," Eileen smiled back at him before heading into the room with the boys.

Brendan eyed him up and down in the doorway, his eyes lingering slightly longer than was necessary or appropriate. He was right, the boys features were a sight to behold. He had golden sun-kissed skin, his cheeks smooth as anything, and the most kissable lips he had ever seen. His light brown hair was effortlessly styled in a neat quiff and his perfectly shaped eyebrows sat above his bright blue eyes. As he passed him to get into the room, he took the room key from him and brushed his fingers against the boys, a charge of electricity seeming to pass through him as their eyes shot to one another. Ste bit down on his bottom lip nervously, and Brendan cursed himself for thinking how much he would love to be the one biting down on it, as if the thought was some reflex response that his mind couldn't control. He was heading for dangerous waters here, and he knew it.

"Thanks, Steven" Brendan muttered quietly, internally scolding himself for giving this _boy _the time of day, for letting himself go even this far.

"No worries," Ste whispered back, not even wanting to correct him on his name, wanting for there to be something different about the way this man addressed him, as if there was already something going on between them that neither of them could deny.

Ste closed the door and leant up against the wall outside, taking a deep breath as he steadied himself and returned to the lift. He couldn't keep his mind off this mystery man that had just knocked the wind right out of his sails. As the lift doors opened he got in and looked at himself in the mirror. Why was he feeling like this about another man? He had never felt anything as strong as he just had, as if his intimidating aura just flicked a switch inside Ste and he couldn't help himself, couldn't control the surge of excitement that coursed throughout his body under the mans stare.

He shook the thought from his mind as the lift door opened, plastering the smile back on his face as he greeted the next family waiting in the lobby.

_**Please review to let me know what you think xxx**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you like the idea, so decided to write some more. **_

_**I'm hoping it will continue as each chapter being each day on the holiday, but I am likely to get carried away so the days may end up spanning over a few chapters.**_

**_Let me know what you think :)_**

Ste awoke the following morning after a disturbed nights sleep. There was one face he couldn't seem to keep out of his dreams, couldn't work out if that in fact made them nightmares. What was it about that moustachioed Irishman that was drawing him in so much? It was as if his thoughts were magnetised to that image of him from the previous day, standing outside his hotel room with that look in his eyes.

He felt the aching in his groin and smoothed his hand down his chest, touching himself gently and toying with the idea of letting go. He rarely allowed himself to give in to his own pleasure, didn't always feel comfortable doing it, especially knowing Anne was in the next room. If he had someone with him, that was different, but he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't been alone.

He grasped his hand around his length and gently stroked up and down, feeling his shoulders relax into it as his hips started to gyrate, eyes blinking back at the sensation that he hadn't felt in so long.

He had never really seen the big deal with sex. He had only ever been with Amy and Rae, both of whom were attractive enough and always seemed to get involved, Ste assuming they were enjoying it enough. But for him, there seemed to be something lacking, and he could never work out quite what it was. He didn't miss it when it wasn't there, so for him to have this sudden urge to pleasure himself was rare.

He increased the pace, moving up and down, faster and faster as he started to feel that unfamiliar sensation coiling inside. It was then that the image of that same man appeared behind his eyelids, making him stop abruptly and bolt upright in the bed. It was one thing this man invading his dreams, but for him to crop up _then, _when he was in the middle of doing _that. _What was that all about?

His erection was harder now than ever, as if it had perked up at the thought of that man.

_What the fuck? _Ste cursed himself as his breathing returned to normal. He pulled the thin bed sheet up around his neck and lay back, staring at the ceiling and trying to get his head around what had just happened, when he heard Anne knock on the door and walk straight in.

"Morning," she breezed, orange juice in hand which she put straight on his bedside table, "Your turn for the welcome meeting this week, remember?"

Ste groaned in response.

"Yeah, I remember," he grumbled, "what time is it? And by the way Anne, you do know the point of knocking is to wait for me to tell you to come in,"

"No, it's to give you a tiny bit of warning that I'm coming in so you can cover yourself up," she smiled playfully.

"You're unbelievable," he smirked back, "I could have had anyone in here with me."

She made no attempt to stifle her laugh, "When have you _ever _had anyone in here, Ste?"

"Oh, shut up," he muttered back at her, rubbing his eyes and picking the sleep out of the corners, then pushing himself up in the bed so that he could take a swig of the orange juice.

"It's half 8 by the way, you've got half an hour," she warned him.

"Right, thanks."

She got up to leave and he downed the rest of his juice, dragging his feet out of the bed and placing them on the floor. He showered quickly and dressed in his fresh uniform that Anne had laid out for him – the turquoise cargo shorts and gaudy bright yellow polo shirt with the company logo on it, and the god awful slogan across the top of his back – Sunseekers, but with the 'Sun' part crossed out and 'Fun' written above it. Seriously, people get paid to come up with this shit.

As he brushed his teeth he looked at himself in the mirror. He still couldn't shake the image of this man from his mind, and he didn't understand why he felt the need to smile when he realised the Brady's said they would be at the welcome meeting this morning. He finished brushing his teeth and turned his attention to styling his hair, making the extra effort to make sure it looked smart yet stylish, effortless yet tidy. He didn't let his mind wander to thoughts of why looking good today would be of any importance to him. It was probably that group of girls who had arrived a couple of days ago – he decided he might catch up with them around the pool later on.

"Right, I'm off," Ste called out to Anne as she stood at the sink washing up, "See you later yeah?"

"Yeah I'll be over in an hour or so when you're finishing up."

He called out bye to her as he slammed the door, racing down the steps to make the short two minute walk from their apartment to the hotel complex. It was just him and Anne sharing, a modest two bedroom flat with a balcony on the second floor of the building opposite the hotel. It was a typical Mediterranean villa complex, white concrete walls and brown tiled floors, blue shutters at the windows and a dated kitchen and bathroom suite. It was nothing special, but it was their home for the six months of the year that they spent in Cyprus – 6 months which was quickly drawing to a close as the end of the holiday season approached.

He waved his greeting to the reception staff as he passed through the hotel lobby, firing a cheeky wink in Sofia's direction – a pretty young girl who had just started working there a couple of weeks ago, and who seemed to go all coy whenever Ste was around. He knew it meant she liked him, but he couldn't find it in himself to be interested – he had been through enough in the past year with relationships, and he certainly wasn't looking for anything right now. He flirted with her though, made her feel special – as he did with most of the female holidaymakers, knowing they loved a bit of attention to brighten up their holiday spirit. He was always willing to help, but he never got close to any of them. He had secrets, things that he wouldn't want any of them to know, which held him back whenever someone tried to get close. He just wasn't ready to put himself out there, not after what happened with Amy.

He put those thoughts to the back of his mind as he entered the bar where the welcome meeting was taking place. There were a couple of the families there already, eager to find out about what he had to offer them. He greeted them enthusiastically, doing his job and making sure they were all settled in and happy. Sometimes he thought that if he could watch himself and the way he acted around these people, he just wouldn't recognise himself. He felt as if it was another person floating around effortlessly, charming the women and joking around with the men, making them feel comfortable and relaxed when deep down, he was constantly on edge. It felt alien to him sometimes, and today was one of those days, when he couldn't seem to keep his mind away from everything else.

He looked up to the door every couple of minutes, willing it to open and for the Brady's to walk in. He didn't want to accept the reason for his anxiety, for what that made him so desperate to see them, to see _him_.

There was still another five minutes until the meeting started, they could still turn up.

-s-

"Where ye goin?" Brendan called out as he heard Eileen shuffling around the room, dressing the boys in their swimming trunks as he blinked back the suns rays from his sleep drenched eyes.

"Well we might as well make the most of being away, I suppose," she answered him back, tone curt and sharp, "We're going down to the meeting then to the pool."

Brendan grunted in reply, rolling onto his back and watching as his wife stomped around the room, his sons jumping around excitedly.

"Where's your credit card?" she asked out of the blue.

"In the safe," he grumbled, voice croaky with sleep, "Why?"

"I might book myself and the boys on some excursions," she answered back, "I'm guessing you're not interested in joining us?"

Brendan huffed out in response, the thought of him on a coach full of tourists as they went to inspect some rock or something just seeming completely ridiculous.

"Yea, thought not," Eileen surmised by his disinterested response, "See you by the pool."

And with that she was gone, her and the boys. Brendan rolled over and tried to squeeze out a few more minutes of sleep. He was groggy and he knew exactly why – he had stayed up late last night drinking whiskey on the balcony, one thought dominating his mind.

It should have been the thought of the danger he had put his family in, but over here he convinced himself that they were safe for now. He should have been concocting a plan for what he was going to do to get them out of this mess, but he was spent for ideas now, knowing they needed to carry on running.

Instead, all he could think of was that boy. He knew he hadn't imagined it – knew he was looking back at him with the same intrigue that his own eyes would have betrayed. He cursed himself repeatedly for letting his mind wander to him; he knew he couldn't go back there. He had been weak before, all those years ago, and it disgusted him that he had given in to it. He was a man, a good Catholic man, and good Catholic men didn't do things like that with other men. It was wrong, and he wasn't going to let himself go back there. Not for some chavvy Mancunian who just might happen to have the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

No. He was stronger now. He had to be stronger than before. He was never going back there again.

-s-

Ste's face lit up as Eileen and the kids walked through the door with one minute to go, but fell just as instantly when he realised they were alone. The man wasn't coming.

He couldn't help but feel a little rejected. He had felt something the day before, when they had looked into each others eyes, and he was hoping it hadn't been one sided. He hadn't got his head around it yet, he didn't know what any of it meant, but he couldn't deny to himself that it had been _something_. Maybe he would just have to deal with the fact that whatever _it _was, _it _hadn't been mutual.

He conducted the meeting in his usual confident fashion, giving his sales spiel about how incredible every excursion was, how it might be a little expensive but it was well worth it. He told the same old anecdotes as always, stories about funny things that had happened on the trips, or the had-to-see-it-to-believe-it sunset on the way back from this cruise or that tour. His audience laughed in all the right places, captivated by his presentation. He knew he was good at his job, and he did enjoy it. He just resented that he had to put the mask on – that the real him wasn't this confident and carefree. He would give anything to have that.

After the meeting he sat with a few of the groups, booking them in for various trips. He noticed the Brady lady was still sat there with the kids, and smiled over at her to let her know he was coming to her next.

"Hi, Mrs Brady," he beamed as he took the spare chair on her table, "How's everything so far for you?"

"Oh, yeah it's all great thanks Ste," she smiled back at him, slightly more reserved than he had been, "Some of these trips sound great."

"Yeah there's some proper mint days out you can 'ave, which one's you thinkin' of?"

"Well I quite fancy the trip to Aphrodite's Rock, and the boys here are begging me to go on this cruise to Egypt to see the pyramids, they're at that age now,"

"Eyar, that's ace that one. It is a couple of days away, it's like an 'oliday within an 'oliday, y'know. And it's a little bit more money but it's one of them things, 'int it, you've gotta see 'em and seein' as ya pretty close it's a shame not to really innit."

"That's why I'm tempted," she smiled up at him, letting her guard down a little as she felt herself starting to like this lads easygoing nature.

"Well the price does include all of ya food and drinks an' everythin', it is literally just that price each an' then any souvenirs you wanna buy when yer there," Ste tried not to sound too salesman-like, "And these pair would proper love it," he smiled down at the two young boys as they looked up expectantly at their mother.

"Pleeeeeeaaaaseeee," they both begged in unison, putting on their sweetest expressions which their mother rolled her eyes at, Ste looking down at them with a smirk.

"Oh, go on then," she gave in easily, "I've got his credit card so I might as well."

"Ah, brill, yer gonna love it, all of ya."

"Aye, I'm sure," Eileen couldn't help but smile at the excitement on her boys faces.

"So, is it two adults and two kids for the 3 day Egypt cruise and two adults and two kids for the Aphrodite's rock day trip?" Ste asked as he started filling in the paperwork.

"Oh no, my husband won't be interested in any of it," she jumped in quickly, "It'll just be me and the kids on both of them."

"Ok, brill," Ste replied, his heart sinking slightly at the confirmation that the man from the night before was in fact married to this woman, that he wasn't her brother or a friend or similar. He had no idea why this bothered him so much. "It'll have to be next weeks cruise, we're full this week. Is that ok?"

"Sounds perfect."

When Ste had finished booking them in and taking the payments he waved his goodbyes, Anne walking through the door at precisely the same moment Eileen left. He noticed the foul stare that Mrs Brady shot in Anne's direction and caught Anne's eyes as she noticed the same, the pair of them laughing in sync at the absurdity of it.

Anne often attracted these jealous glances from other women, and the occasional threat of trying to steal someone's husband. She was undeniably attractive, would make any FHM sexiest women shortlist, but she wasn't the type of girl to flaunt it around. She knew the hold she could have over men, what with her womanly curves and beautiful features, but ever since she had lost her husband Riley two years ago, she had barely looked at another man in that way. He had been killed in a car accident days after their wedding, and the tragedy had devastated her. Getting this job and getting away from it all was her way of moving on from him, but Ste knew as well as she did that things would never be the same for her again.

She was grateful she had Ste to look out for her. He was always there as a shoulder to cry on when the memories came flooding back, and he never tried to cross the line with her. Ste knew she was attractive but she was older than him, a good five years older, and besides he had never looked at her in that way. The more he discovered about himself, about the feelings he had been having recently, the more he understood exactly why that was.

They had formed a great bond, a friendship based on trust and support of one another, and they confided in one another about their greatest fears. It was this trust that had led Ste to admit to her the week before that he was having doubts about himself – that he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore – what he wanted in a relationship. He hadn't found the words to say it to her yet – he hadn't even accepted the thought of it in his own mind – but Anne had her suspicions about what it was that he was feeling. She knew she had to be patient though, to let Ste work through the feelings on his own, and that he needed to admit it to himself first and foremost.

As she walked up to Ste now, they both took a bar stool and relaxed their elbows onto the solid wooden bar. The place was empty now all the newbies had left – it wasn't open yet, had only been opened up for the welcome meeting, and they were alone in there.

"How'd it go?" Anne asked, not really caring much for the answer.

"Yeah, good," Ste answered back quietly.

"How you doing?" she asked, her tone soft and caring, more genuine than the last question.

"I'm alright," Ste muttered back unconvincingly.

"Have you spoken to Amy?"

"No, not since yesterday. Said I'd call her later on tonight."

They sat together in companionable silence for a few moments, Anne trying to find the words to comfort a man on the verge of losing his kids, but she chose to change the subject instead.

"So, you got any gossip on the new arrivals, then?"

"Nowt interesting," he replied back, deadpan.

"Oh, come on, Ste," she pleaded, "You must have something. You always get good gossip."

Ste smiled at her, comforted by her attempts to make him feel better.

"What do you think of them Brady's?" he asked, couldn't help himself.

"You mean 'tache man and bitch face?"

Ste laughed in response, "Ah, she ain't that bad, she's just well jeal of you that's all."

"Yeah, well it's not my fault is it? I was born looking like this!" she ran her hand up and down her body, as if demonstrating what she was referring to, but her voice betraying the sarcasm in her meaning.

"You're so vain," he reprimanded playfully.

"Yeah well, I wouldn't touch her husband anyway, he's a bit creepy if you ask me. Got that look in his eye, y'know?"

Ste hesitated before responding, a little taken aback by her review of the Irishman - there were a whole load of words he could think of in relation to that man, but none of them were anywhere close to _creepy._

"You know there's like a well famous gangster round by me," Ste started, trying to appear unfazed by Anne's dismissal of the Irishman by moving the subject matter away from his looks, "By where I live back home, everyone know 'is name - Brendan Brady. Dunno what he looks like or owt, I've never met or seen 'im, but everyone's heard of 'im, proper dodgy like. D'ya reckon that's 'im?" Ste asked, only part of him joking.

"Ha! I doubt you could get that kind of reputation with a 'tache like that, do you?" Anne laughed back, Ste nodding in agreement.

"She hardly looks like a gangsters moll either, does she."

"Yeah with two kiddies hanging of each arm."

"Ha!" Ste laughed easily now, "Yeah, reckon i've got the wrong guy 'eh."

-s-

Brendan sat in his sunlounger enjoying the heat of the mid afternoon sun, iPod headphones in and Johnny Cash playing along as he tried desperately to drown out the sounds of the kids screaming in the pool area to his left. He wasn't usually one to sunbathe, always had more important things to be getting on with, but he needed to maintain radio silence and to fit in as well as possible amongst the others now, so he was trying his best.

It had only been half an hour and he was already bored, his mind wandering and attempting to come up with new ways to keep himself amused. He kept his headphones in his ears but turned the sound down, trying to eavesdrop on other peoples conversations to get his kicks.

It was then that he heard the incessant Manchester drawl of the overbearing holiday rep as he approached the group of girls to his right.

"Hello there ladies," the boy crooned, as all four of them sat upright and cast their attention towards him, simultaneously welcoming him with a mixture of _Hi, Hiya _and _Y'alreet pet_.

Brendan sat back with his eyes fixed shut but focused everything inside of him on the boy.

"'Ow you doin' then ladies? Enjoyin' the sun? Can see you've caught a bit already 'int ya."

"Aye," one of the girls crooned back at him in a thick Geordie accent, and Brendan could sense the desperation in her tone without even opening his eyes. He could sense her leaning up and fluttering her eyelashes at the young lad.

"You off out to the strip tonight?" Ste asked.

"Definitely," the girl replied, "You fancy joinin' us, like?"

"Depends, you gonna make it worth my while ladies?"

Brendan cringed as they giggled along, the young lad cracking jokes left right and centre and lapping up the attention as the girls ate out of the palm of his hand. He was feeding them lines, his tone confident and carefree, arrogant almost, cocky with his naïvety. Brendan visibly sneered as he listened in to their conversation, to the awkward responses from the girls as they fought over each other to be heard by the man they all seemed to be fanning themselves over.

After a good five minute conversation, the lad wrapped it up with a promise of going out on the town with them at least once before they went home, the three of them laughing like hyena's when he joked about how these girls were going to be the death of him, and how he wasn't meant to socialise with guests but that seeing as these girls were special he would make an exception, as long as they didn't tell his boss. Brendan laughed at the predictability of it all, as if the scene had come straight from some amateur movie. He bet this lad said the same to all the girls.

Brendan continued to listen in on the girls conversation after the lad had left, intrigued as to what they would make of Steven's lothario-like conversation skills.

"Bloody hell pet yer putting it about a bit ain't ya, you'll eat him alive," he heard one girl say to the other.

"Oh, god give me a chance I bloody would," another one responded.

"You two serious?" The third girl joined in.

"Ya-huh. Don't pretend you wouldn't, hun."

"I'm not sure you're his type, love."

"Why? You saying I'm too fat for him, you cow?"

"Ha, no love. I'm saying you're too female for him."

"You what?"

"You pair have got the worst gaydar ever."

"No way!" both the girls cried back in unision.

"Yes way!"

"Oh, you always ruin my fun, you do."

"It's not my bloody fault is it."

"Well, I bet you he's not gay. I'll prove ya wrong, babe."

"Oh, go ahead, please try."

All three girls giggled to each other, clinking their cocktail glasses as they accepted their challenge.

Brendan had frozen in his seat at the mention of the 'g' word. The devil on his shoulder told him that he should challenge himself in the same vein as the girls had just done so, that he knew deep down he would be more successful than any of them would be at seducing the boy. He thought about him, about how he had looked into his eyes with such trepidation the night before. He had something about him, some aura that despite this whole bravado, this whole show he put on, he was vulnerable deep down. It was something that had always made Brendan go weak at the knees with the last boy.

He visibly snapped himself out of it, shaking his head as he sat bolt upright on the sunbed. He cursed himself for thinking about that little runt like that, and cursed the boy for daring to tempt him like he clearly had. He couldn't explain why he couldn't get his face out of his mind, like the image was permanently etched in the inside of his eyelids, staring back at him expectantly whenever he dared to close them.

The lad was a tool anyway – he was clearly too confident for his own good, flirting away with all the women, letting them hang off his every word. He probably had a string of women over here – was probably why he had this job in the first place – to have his wicked way with the holidaymakers and then drop them off at the airport two weeks later, picking up the next victim as he moved from departures to arrivals. He was no doubt shamelessly bed hopping, could sense it in the way he charmed the pants off everyone around the pool. He was probably the kind of guy who had had it all growing up, and didn't have a clue what problems lie ahead in the real world for real people. He was just some immature little fuckwit, no matter how beautiful a fuckwit that was, and Brendan told himself he needed to snap out of it. Like he promised earlier – he was never going there again.

-s-

Later that evening, after the Brady's had been out for their meal in the resort centre, and after Eileen had taken Dec and Paddy up to the room for the night, Brendan sat down at the bar, calling across the bartender and ordering a neat whiskey on the rocks. He cast his expression down into the glass, as if it could hold the answers to the questions which were spinning around his head, as if it could give him the strength to fight against his demons. It couldn't.

The bar was quiet, almost empty save for a couple of tables dotted around, the last remaining drinkers for the day. The bartender was cleaning up, putting away the last few glasses from the dishwasher, and Brendan caught him glancing at his watch impatiently. He would have made some quip about the guys lazy attitude, but he was a pretty fierce looking man, muscular with a threatening Mafia-like quality to him, and Brendan didn't have the energy to make any new enemies. He was finding it difficult enough just hating himself right now.

He became aware of a voice growing louder and more agitated from behind the staff door to his left, and cocked his head up to listen in.

"Fucks sake, Ames," the voice argued, laced with anger, "You can't do this to me. I know its fucked up, right, but they're my kids too Ames, you cant just cart them off...No, Amy I don't care, you cant - don't you fucking dare hang up on me - No -"

The sound of the man's voice was replaced then with a loud groan and a smash - presumably whoever it was had indeed hung up and the phone had paid the price. Brendan felt himself sympathising with whoever it was - he could definitely relate to that kind of distress.

The staff door swung open and Brendan was shocked to see the source of that anger - it was that runt of a holiday rep that had been grating on him all day. What problems could he have to get so worked up about?

"Pedro, vodka," he ordered at the barman, who shot him a dubious look, "I don't want any if your shit Pedro I ain't in the fuckin' mood right, just give me the vodka, yeah."

Brendan realised he was staring now, taken aback by the passion in the lad. Maybe there was more to him than he originally gave him credit for. He seemed to have a fire within him. Maybe he had underestimated him. And he had kids? What was that all about. He didn't look any older than a kid himself.

Ste caught him looking, glared back at him and visibly swallowed in a bid to contain his anger. He knocked back the vodka that Pedro had placed before him and slammed the glass back down, signalling for another to be poured.

"You shouldn't be seein' me like this," Ste muttered towards Brendan, "Sorry."

"Its okay," Brendan replied back, his voice softer than he had intended, "I get it."

"Just ...pretend this never happened, yeah" Ste pleaded as he took back the other shot and slid the glass back along the bar towards Pedro, scrunching up a five euro note and chucking it in the barman's direction.

"Sure," Brendan agreed quietly as he watched this broken man before him, so different from the confident, cocky twat he had encountered that afternoon. He definitely preferred this version. He was more vulnerable, more fierce. He was more like himself than he realised.

Ste stormed off and headed back to the apartment, too consumed with anger at himself and at Amy to think about his exchange with the Irishman. He would need to find him out tomorrow though to make sure he wouldn't report him for his outburst. He felt a shiver run down his spine in anticipation of seeing him again.

_**Please review :)**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_Thanks so much for your reviews for the first two chapters, and sorry for the delay in updating. I had a bit of writers block, kind of finding it hard to write the build up when i just want to get to the good parts! I hope it's not coming across too slowly, just didn't think it was right for them to be jumping into bed together just yet!_**

**_Please review to let me know what you think, hope you like it :)_**

Brendan woke himself up with the loud groan he let out involuntarily as he shifted his neck slightly. His whole body seemed to ache, the left side of his neck all down to his shoulders, and as he opened his eyes and blinked away the searing brightness of the sun, he realised why. He had fallen asleep in the white plastic chair on the balcony of his room, head lolling to one side, arm dragging towards the floor where his whiskey glass rolled around, just out of reach of his fingers.

There was an eerie silence over the pool area below him, the sound of birds chirping away in the distance. He picked up his watch from the table in front of him and took a sharp intake of breath. It was only 5.30am, the sun was just rising.

He groggily stood up, picking the whiskey glass up off the floor and rolling his shoulders back, wincing with the pain than shot through him as his muscles clicked around the base of his neck. He pulled open the balcony door and walked back into the room, pulling the blackout blinds closed behind him and undressing himself to his boxers quietly. He got into the bed, trying not to wake Eileen, but as he went to close his eyes he felt her stir beside him.

"Where've ye been?" he heard her whisper, words stuck to the inside of her mouth in her sleepy haze.

"Nowhere," he whispered back, placing a kiss on her forehead and turning his back on her as he succumbed to sleep.

-s-

Ste had lain awake in bed for most of the night; anger, pain and resentment coursing too powerfully through his veins to allow him to switch off into sleep mode. He couldn't believe Amy had been so heartless on the phone the night before – that she was refusing to bring the kids over for their regular visit, and instead saying she might be moving away, to America, and that he couldn't see them any more.

They had only been young when the kids were born – Leah coming along when Amy was only 15, and Lucas two years later. They had been through a lot to stick together throughout it all, and had both been mature enough to accept that although they weren't in a relationship any longer, they were always going to be a part of each others lives for the sake of the kids. When Ste had got this job as a holiday rep a couple of years ago, he faced a tough decision – he had never been lucky with jobs, careers, employment – had gone from one dead end job to another, but this seemed like a big step up for him. It was well paid, enough so that he could work part time for the other six months of the year when he was back home, and of course it meant Amy and the kids could have a few free holidays every year whilst they came out to see him. And if nothing else, it got him away from some of the bad decisions he had made in his life, which seemed to come back to haunt him whenever he was back home in Manchester. He had done plenty of things he wasn't proud of, and had looked upon this job as a fresh start.

After the initial arguments, Amy accepted that it was the right thing to do for him to take the job, and they had agreed that the kids would spend six months of the year with Amy, and the other six months with Ste. Back in the UK they lived only a few miles apart, so Amy would still be a part of their lives when Ste had them, and of course when Ste was abroad with work, they would skype all the time and come to visit every couple of months.

It had worked perfectly for the first 18 months, even up until a couple of months ago, when Amy had met her new fella – Douglas. He was an American, preppy kind of guy – he would have passed for good looking if he didn't spend all of his time frowning. He was similar to Ste in a lot of ways, looks-wise – Amy clearly went for a 'type' – but in terms of personality and background, they couldn't have been more different.

Doug had been brought up in a well-to-do family – they had money and resources – but despite it all he had still been involved with drugs in his past. As much as Ste wanted to use that as a reason to keep him away from his kids, he knew he would be a hypocrite to make the point. He could hardly make that argument to Amy when she had been willing to let Ste stay in the kids lives after everything he had put them through.

Amy had still refused to see the bad in Doug, though, even when he started manipulating her and controlling her life, choosing who she could and couldn't spend time with, stopping her from seeing her friends by coaxing her to stay in, Ste sure he would lock the door on her if he could.

Doug and Ste had never seen eye to eye – right from the beginning. He had joined Amy and the kids when they had visited earlier in the summer, and when they met for the first time, Ste outstretched his hand to shake, eyes full of warmth and welcome, and Doug had coughed and turned away, not letting Amy see the rejection but staring Ste straight in the eye as he did it. Ste knew right away he was bad news, and wanted him as far away from his kids as possible.

Now, Ste lay in bed and realised he was losing this battle of wills. Doug had forced his way into Amy's life, into his kids lives, and he had infected her brain and turned her against Ste. She was refusing to visit in a couple of weeks time as they had previously arranged, and as Ste was looking forward to - it was almost keeping him going. Alongside this, she was threatening to take the kids to America, all because Douglas wanted to move back nearer to his family when his course ended, and he had invited Amy with him.

Ste had no idea how he was going to win this battle. He didn't have the resources, didn't have the money or the ideal lifestyle to tempt Amy with. But what he did have was the fight, the spirit, the passion. He would do anything to keep his kids close – he wasn't giving up on them that easily. No way.

He resolved to fight this battle right to the end.

-s-

Brendan felt a hand shaking his shoulder, pushing him onto his back as he groaned with displeasure.

"Oi," he heard his wife nag above him, "Oi, Brendan, get yerself up. We're going to breakfast."

"Not hungry," he mumbled back.

"What's wrong with you, you are always hungry," she answered back, voice laced with contempt, "Or did ye get your fill last night, eh?"

Brendan blinked his eyes open as he realised what she had just said, looking up at her through sleep drenched lashes and noticing her pursed lips and furrowed brow.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, keeping his voice down as he could hear the kids playing on the balcony.

"Well, you rolled in at the crack of dawn, let me take a guess where you could have been."

He let her accusation sink in, shaking his head subconsciously as he replied, "I fell asleep on the balcony, Eileen. You don't believe me, ask my aching neck."

She grunted in response, wanting to believe him but all of instincts telling her that there was something he was hiding – something he had been hiding for a long time.

"Working the bar last night, was she?" Eileen snapped.

"Who?"

"Ach, come on, Brendan, don't insult me," she whined, but on seeing her husbands blank expression she exaggerated, "Our lovely rep, _Anne_."

Her name left Eileen's lips as if it was poison, as if to keep it there a moment longer would have been damaging, as if she had coughed up the sound from the back of her throat.

"Why would the holiday rep be working the bar, Eileen?" Brendan replied deadpan, noticing a hint of realisation in his wife's eyes that he had a point.

"Don't be smart," she bit back, "I know what's going on, Brendan, don't go thinking I'm stupid."

"Ye cannot be serious, Eileen?" Brendan raised his voice now, outraged that he was being accused so falsely.

"Keep your voice down," Eileen nodded in the kids direction.

"Well, ye accuse me of carrying on with some girl I met _yesterday,_ who I've never had a conversation wit, and ye expect me not to get mad?"

"Whatever, Brendan," Eileen dismissed, picking up her bags and rounding up the boys, "See you by the pool."

"Eileen -" he shouted after her, but the only response he got was the door slamming shut.

He couldn't believe she had jumped to such a massive conclusion in her head. He spends a few hours in the hotel bar, has a nightcap on the balcony, falls asleep through alcohol induced exhaustion, and suddenly he's having an affair.

He sat up wearily, forcing himself to stand and walk over to the shower. He felt the relief as the warm water trickled over his head, through his hair and down the back on his neck. He concentrated the flow of the water against his shoulder at the base of his neck, where it was still aching from the night before.

He supposed he couldn't blame Eileen for recognising there was something missing in their relationship. They hardly ever slept together now, and when they did, Brendan only felt as if there was something missing. He supposed she must pick up on that, but she couldn't be further from the truth if she suspected it was another woman he wanted instead. She could never know _who_ he would rather be fucking instead of her.

He had promised himself he would turn his back on that lifestyle, that he would choose not to live that way any longer. He could hold his emotions in, reign in his desires and force himself to do what was _right_. Even if it felt completely wrong to him whilst he was doing it. But every now and then, when he was alone, and feeling pressure from all angles, he allowed his thoughts to drift off, to escape the restrictions of the world he lived in.

He reached down to his groin and grasped his cock in his hands. He needed release – rough and heavy and quick – and he started to work himself up desperately. He started out fast, no messing, he needed this and he didn't fucking care how his neck was hurting now, how the pain was searing through his shoulders and how his arms started to ache. He carried on tugging, feeling the water surround him and his breathing became heavier, his body seeming weak as he leaned forwards, supporting himself against the shower wall as his insides started to tingle with the beginnings of his orgasm.

He needed stimulation to push him over the edge, though, and all he could think of in that moment was the fire in that boy's eyes – the beauty of the lad and the vulnerability he exuded in that moment when their eyes had locked over the bar. Brendan let his mind explore, let himself picture what the lad would look like under him, coming apart at Brendan's touch, how tight his little hole would feel around him, how sweet and salty the taste of his come on his tongue, how his body would glow with the sheen of sweat from the effects of their workout.

He groaned with release, begging to nobody in particular as the warm white liquid throbbed out of him, his hand spent and joining his other one as he leaned up against the wall.

He leaned his head into his hands, looked down as he watched the water rinse away the evidence of his sin. He knew he should feel shame, that the thoughts in his mind which had let him feel that release were wrong. But right now he couldn't punish himself – not yet. Right now, all he could think of was that boy. All he felt was a burning need in the pit of his stomach – an aching in his groin – the desire to get that boy exactly where he wanted him.

-s-

"Anne," Ste called out as he searched through their flat, "Anne, I'm gonna go round the pool for a bit before the market trip this afternoon, you coming?"

She appeared from the balcony with an empty cereal bowl in her hand.

"Yeah, I'll come over with you but I've gotta watch the reception desk," she replied.

"Ok, five minutes, yeah?"

"Sound," she nodded with a smile.

A few minutes later Ste was sat around the pool, shirt off and aviator shades on, rubbing sun lotion into his golden sun kissed skin. He put his headphones in and sat back, welcoming some peace and quiet before he had to round up a herd of flustered tourists and go bartering on the local market in a few hours. He held his iPod above his head, flicking through the albums to find a bit of Cheryl Cole, when his ears were invaded with that stomach churning Irish lull.

"Eileen, I swear to ye...will ye just listen to me."

"Not interested."

"Eileen, please -"

The mans voice stopped short, and Ste opened his eyes behind his shades to see why. He saw the tall Irishman looking straight at him, as if the sight of Ste sitting there is what had distracted him from whatever it was he had been saying. Upon seeing Ste's head shift towards his gaze, the Irishman snapped out of his lust filled daze and carried on after his wife.

"Ei – Eileen, come on," his voice faded as he walked further away.

Ste lay back down and pressed play on his Cheryl playlist, but he couldn't focus on the words like he usually did. He couldn't help but wonder why Mr Brady had been looking at him like that - was it really Ste that had distracted him from his train of thought? Distracted him from his _wife_? He laughed inwardly to himself – how ridiculous. As if a man like that would even notice him.

A few songs into Cheryl's second album and Ste felt the headphone pulled out of his ear, replaced with a wolf whistle which drilled right into his ear drum, seeming to pierce it instantly. Ste opened his eyes to find Anne smiling above him.

"Bloody hell, you tryn'a make me go deaf?" he moaned as he sat up, lifting his sunglasses off his face.

She laughed in response, whacking him gently on the arm as she moved his legs and sat on the edge of his sun lounger.

"What time you gotta leave for the market trip?" Anne asked.

"'Bout half an hour. You done on reception?" Ste asked back, finger still in his ear in recovery from her assault.

"Yeah."

Ste leaned back and Anne took up on the next sun lounger as they lay together in companionable silence.

"Anne," Ste asked out of the blue after a few moments, "Can I ask you something?"

Anne sat up on her elbows – she knew by Ste's tone that the conversation was taking a serious turn and she wanted to make sure he knew he had her full attention.

"Of course, Ste," she replied, "Anytime."

There was a long, heated pause before Ste elaborated, but Anne let him take his time. She knew this was something he couldn't rush, shouldn't rush, and she let him think over whatever he needed to say before he said it. Ste was mulling it over in his head. There were so many questions spinning around, so many things he needed answers for, but had no idea who to ask. He took a deep breath and knew he could trust Anne with this, knew she was there for him no matter what.

"Y'know the other week," Ste started tentatively, his voice low and nervous as he sat up and lifted his shades, looking Anne right in the eye.

"Yeah," she filled in the pregnant pause that Ste had left.

"Y'know what I was saying...about...y'know," Ste continued, Anne letting him have all the time he needed, "about...thinking I might be...y'know..."

He looked over at her then and waved his hand, as if to signal that she should finish that sentence herself in her head. She knew he was referring to the drunken conversation they had had, the one where he had hinted towards his sexuality, that he sometimes finds himself drawn to the hunked up men around the pool more so than he does the women. That he can talk to girls, can flirt with them, and feel completely at ease because there's no nerves there – but as soon as a shirtless guy approaches, he goes all hot under the collar and he can't get his words out right.

She carried on looking at him blankly, though. She didn't want to push him, but she knew this was something he needed to say out loud.

He huffed at her non-response. "Y'know," Ste carried on again, "That I might be..._gay,_" he said it with a whisper, looking around straight afterwards to check if anyone had heard him.

Anne smiled down at him, quietly proud that the word had left his lips whilst sober. She whispered back, "Ste, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

She wished so hard that he could believe it.

"I know, I know. It's just -"

"Hi, Ste!"

They had been interrupted by the gaggle of Geordie girls from the day before, all three of them surrounding his sun lounger and greeting him in unison.

Ste flicked a look at Anne, a small, hardly noticeable roll of the eye, before he addressed them.

"Hiya ladies!" he crooned back, relaxing into the conversation with ease, as if he hadn't just been discussing life altering issues with Anne. He knew they would be hard to get rid of, so resigned himself to the next half an hour of idle chit chat and empty promises of all the fun they could have on a night out with the girls.

Ste was completely unaware that over the other side of the pool, behind his own aviator shades and with the enough distance to not be noticeable, Brendan sat and watched his every movement. He had watched the lad lying there a few moments ago, his eyes fixing on the taut skin across his midriff, the golden brown of his skin, the smooth chest and what appeared to be a scattering of hairs around his lower torso, the perfect treasure trail leading into his shorts as they slung low on his hips. They boy was perfect. He was exactly what Brendan had imagined him to be, and more. He was all he could ask for.

Only he hadn't asked for him. He hadn't asked for any of these feelings that seemed to be growing inside of him. He hadn't asked to be this way, for his body to want him to sin the way that it did, for him to be so weak in the face of temptation. It was animalistic, the way his thoughts magnetised towards the boy, and he needed to learn to control himself better. He had thought he was doing well, but this beautiful boy had arrived and his mind, alongside his cock, was running away with itself. He needed to nip this in the bud, to strengthen his resolve and push these disgusting thoughts from his mind.

But, for now, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the lads perfect form, and he found himself licking his bottom lip inadvertently as he watched on from a distance.

When the girl had turned up, Brendan laughed to himself silently at the boys sassy reaction to her whistling in his ear. He watched their exchange – friendly, comfortable – and could tell they were discussing something. It looked serious – he was nervous, unsure of himself; she was looking back at him with encouragement, concern and love in her eyes. He respected how the girl seemed to genuinely care about her friend, knew they must have a strong bond between them – something he could honestly say he had never experienced with another person. He had never let anybody truly know him enough to get that close; never trusted anyone with all of his secrets.

Brendan watched on as the group of girls arrived, sure he saw a hint of an eye roll from the lad towards his friend. This lad kept on surprising him, kept defying that first impression which had gotten Brendan's back up at the time. The more he saw of him, the more he realised this sunny demeanour wasn't the real Steven, and the more he saw of that, the more he was drawn in – he found himself wanting, _needing, _to know the man behind the mask.

After a while the lad got rid of his female entourage, laughing to Anne as the girls walked away, before standing up and collecting together his things. Brendan watched on, marvelled at the flawless body, the skin which just seemed to dazzle as the sweat from the searing heat ran down his back. He noticed a small tattoo on the lads hip, wanted nothing more than to get up close to it, see what it was, stroke the skin around it, ask the lad what it meant to him, get inside his head and _know _him.

He snapped himself out of it, returning his eyes to his book as the object of his attention put his top back on and started to walk towards him, towards the hotel lobby. As he passed the front of his sun lounger, the lad looked straight in his direction, and Brendan could feel his eyes burning into him, as if he was deliberating whether to say something. Brendan glanced up briefly, met eyes with Steven and raised his eyebrows in a statement of _you-got-a-problem-?, c_ausing the lad to drop his stare and carry on ahead.

Ste knew he needed to speak to the Irishman about the way he had been the night before at the bar, but it needed to be far more private than this. He needed to get the guy alone, to explain to him what he had seen. He decided he would look for him later this evening.

-s-

Brendan couldn't believe his life had succumbed to this. Merely days ago he was about to head up a drugs heist from one of Britain's most dangerous men, and now he was sat here on a package holiday, surrounded by the cast of the Jeremy Kyle Show, about to 'enjoy' the evening entertainment by some wannabe who wasn't even good enough for the cruise ships.

He had agreed to come down with Eileen and the boys to avoid having to drink himself into oblivion on the balcony, and in the hope that it could tear his thoughts away from the one thing that had been swimming around in them constantly. Instead, he found himself sitting in the hotel bar looking everywhere for the lad, every time he heard a semblance of a Northern accent his hackles raised, followed by disappointment when he realised it wasn't him. He wasn't here. Why would he come into work on his evenings off anyway? Busman's holiday.

He heard them announce the headline act over the speakers, a few whoops coming from the men in the audience as if they knew what was coming.

"Mitzeeeeeeee Minniveeeerrrrr!" the compere drawled, and out walked the petite little bombshell of a holiday rep, all done up to the nines as her alter ego. Even Brendan could tell she was a catch, all voluminous hair, red pouting lips, real womanly curves complimented to perfection with the tight, short dress and skyscraper heels she was wearing. He could understand the excitement of the men in the room, and thought it only appropriate that he at least try to force a smile on his face – to not do so would surely raise a few suspicions.

But then his need to plaster a fake smile on was quickly replaced with a lurching feeling inside his chest, his eyes widening and a genuine smile taking over the insincerity of the one it was replacing. As Mitzeee walked out on stage, from the door to the backstage area Steven appeared, taking a seat on the front row to watch his friend perform. He was dressed in white cut off denim shorts and a bright yellow chequered shirt that made Brendan smile a little – he didn't realise it was 80's night.

He couldn't take his eyes of the boy throughout Mitzeee's set, as she wowed the crowd, men and women in awe of her, all Brendan could focus on was the smile on the boys face, his adoration of this strong, powerful woman that he called his best friend.

Eileen glanced across at her husband towards the end of the show, clocking the besotted expression he wore and jumping to all the wrong conclusions, even if she had fabricated them all in her head. She already had her suspicions about her husband and the brunette, and took his bashful smirk as confirmation that something was going on, or at least her husband wanted it to be.

"Ach, have some respect, Brendan," she hissed into his ear, "Your kids are present for God's sake."

Brendan tore his eyes away from the boy as her words echoed around his head. He looked over to his wife in confusion, eyes darting from side to side and hand outstretched questioningly.

"What have I done now?" he asked, exhausted with her constant jealousy.

"You can't keep your eyes off that tart of yours," she whispered, voice full of menace as disdain as she spat out the word _tart_.

The red mist descended - she couldn't have been further off the mark, but she couldn't possibly ever know the reason why she was. He had run out of ways to defend himself, to convince her that there was no other woman for him – the truest statement he could ever give his wife – so he jumped up out of his seat and stormed out of the bar, causing a slight scene as his chair fell backwards when he stood.

He waited outside for her, pacing back and forth as his mind worked in overdrive. What was he going to have to do to convince his wife he wasn't cheating?

A few minutes later the show ended, and the bar started to empty. Eileen and the boys made their way outside, her face dropping when she realised Brendan had waited for them.

"Give it a rest, Brendan," she sneered at him, ushering the boys to walk ahead so they could continue their silent argument without them in earshot, "Go back to your slut."

"Eileen, for fucks sake I've never even spoken to the girl," Brendan pleaded, "I don't know where this is even coming from."

She gave him the silent treatment as they walked back to their room, him pleading with her the whole way, protesting his innocence, but she wasn't interested. When they reached the room, she let the boys in and walked inside herself, before turning to speak for the first time since they left the bar.

"Go and sort yourself out, Brendan. You're not sleeping in here tonight with our boys here. I don't want them around you when you're like this."

She tried to shut the door but he stopped her, his strength far overriding hers.

"What?" he questioned, desperate, "Where the hell am I supposed to sleep?"

"Ach, I'm sure you'll find _somewhere, _Brendan," she bit back.

He relaxed his arm as he caught on to her meaning, letting her slam the door in his face. He turned around and swung his fist against the wall, wincing back from the pain as his knuckles split open and blood started to seep through. Great, now he had no bed for the night and a bleeding fist. He kicked the bin the corridor out of frustration, and walked slowly back to the lift door, cursing under his breath about his _stupid-fucking-wife_.

-s-

"Ah, Mitz," Ste beamed as Anne emerged back out of the dressing rooms, back to her normal self now with Mitzeee all packed away in the gym bag she carried, "You were amazing, as always."

He grabbed her into a hug which she returned, the warm embrace they had both come to appreciate so fondly.

"You're too kind, Ste Hay," she smiled back with a hint of coyness.

They started to walk back together, opting for the scenic route around the hotel pool and along the beach, so as to avoid the revels of holidaymakers in the hotel lobby who usually just wanted to accost Anne after her performances. They never bothered the next day, when they were sober, but something about the alcohol made all the men think they could grab a piece, and she had learnt that the hard way. They always took this back route on the way back from her shows now, and Ste always walked alongside her. If anybody asked, they were a couple, and they should keep their filthy hands off her.

They walked down the ornate spiral staircase that lead from the hotel premises onto the beach, chatting casually about the show. After Ste had finished praising her, she left a lengthy pause and decided to try and resume their conversation from earlier in the day.

"Ste," she asked, her tone lowered and full of genuine concern, "What you were saying earlier," she looked over to him as he dipped his head.

He knew this conversation had been lurking in the shadows, knew Anne had been searching for the right moment to bring the subject back up and Ste still hadn't found the words to follow up what he started.

"You know you've got absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, Ste," Anne assured him, hoping he could find the strength to come out and be who he was.

"I just don't know...I'm just not sure, Anne," he answered back hesitantly.

She paused and considered her words carefully before replying, almost not saying them, but knowing he might need a gentle push in the right direction.

"You'll never know if you don't give it a try," she encouraged, but when she looked over to him he was looking ahead, stopped dead. She followed his gaze, and found the guy she described as the creepy Irishman sitting on the sun lounger before them, alone on the beach at night, head in his hands and knuckles bloodied. He hadn't noticed them yet.

"You alright there fella," Anne called out gently.

He snapped his head up on hearing her voice, pulling him from his pitying thoughts as he sat alone on the beach. He had hoped he could sleep here tonight, out under the stars in peace, but these were the third lot of people to ask if he was alright and it was starting to piss him off.

"Mind yer own fucking business, yea?" he called back, his voice faltering at the end as he realised who it was who was asking after him this time. The beautiful boy and his glamorous assistant.

Anne and Ste looked between each other, both of them recognising that dark place that the Irishman was obviously dwelling in, the glance shared between them saying all they needed to say as they approached him slowly, knowing he would need someone on his side judging by the state he was in.

They stopped in front of him, staring down at him as he sat on the edge of the sun lounger.

"You come out here for the scenery, or what?" Anne asked quietly.

A wall of silence greeted her in response, but she knew she should persevere, that before her sat a man in need of a little patience and lot of goodwill.

Brendan was warmed by her concern, almost mistook it as genuine, but he knew deep down she was probably only after some gossip to pass on around the hotel pool the next day. Why would anyone who hardly knew him give a shit about looking after him?

"Give it a rest, sweetheart. You don't have to pretend you care out here," he quipped back at her defensively.

She looked over at Ste as the Irishman kicked his shoes off and lay down, turning onto his side away from his unexpected guests and trying to sleep.

"Look, you can't sleep out on the beach, it drops well below freezing in the night," Anne pressed, looking over to Ste questioningly, him nodding back at her in response, "We've got room on our sofa if you want a roof over your head."

Brendan didn't want to rely on anybody, but he had been here only half an hour and he was already feeling the cold, and the prospect of sleeping out here on his own, with the constant stream of louty British tourists passing by, only weakened his resolve. He turned back to face them, sitting up again on the sun lounger.

"You got whiskey?" he asked quietly.

Anne and Ste laughed discreetly in response.

"Couldn't get through life without it," Anne replied, holding her hand out to pull the Irishman up off the sun lounger he had been intending to take up residence on for the night.

They walked the short distance back to the flat in silence, Brendan lagging a few steps behind. He wasn't entirely sure if what he was doing was wise, whichever way you looked at it. On the one hand, if Eileen found out he had spent the night in Anne's flat, there would be hell to pay and he knew it. And on the other hand, he was heading straight into the danger zone – agreeing to actually spend the night within a few metres of the lad he couldn't seem to get out of his mind, and he wasn't sure if he trusted himself entirely. He chanced a glance up at the pair of them, so effortless in their own company that they could wander back to their flat in silence, not a shred of awkwardness between them. His eyes coursed down the boys back, down to the perfect roundness of his arse. It was small, cute, beautifully formed and perfectly in proportion to the rest of his slight frame. And it looked fucking hot in those white jeans. Jesus.

As if sensing the inspection he was getting from behind, Ste turned to glance at him as Anne let them into their flat. It was modest, but tidy, well-kept and they had obviously put effort into making this place a home. Ste nodded towards the sofa and Brendan walked across, sitting himself down on it tentatively, still unsure of himself inside the home of two people he barely knew. He was surprised when Ste joined him on the sofa, sitting closer than Brendan thought was necessary.

"I'll get you a blanket and pillow," Anne said sweetly, "And a wee dram of the amber nectar."

"Thank ye," Brendan replied, his gaze flitting straight onto Ste as soon as Anne left the room.

They shared eye contact for a few heated moments, neither of them sure if the other was aware of the way they had dominated each others thoughts for the past 48 hours.

"I, um...I wanted to speak to ya today, actually," Ste started, his voice weak and unsure of itself, Ste coughing to try to make the next part come out stronger, "I wanted to apologise for the way I was, like, in the bar yesterday."

Brendan looked up at him through his eyelashes, confusion etched on his face.

"It's just 'cus you're a customer, ain't ya," Ste continued, "You shouldn't be seein' me all het up like that. That's all, like. So, sorry 'bout that."

"Ye don't have to apologise to me for anything, Steven," Brendan replied, sure he noticed a shiver pass under the boys skin as he said his name like that, slow and seductive, "I like to see a bit of passion in ye, anyway."

He watched the boys reaction, how he swallowed nervously, bit down on his lip and blinked a few times. Brendan couldn't help but think about how he would like to be the one biting down on those sweet, moist lips.

It was then that Brendan noticed his eyelashes. How could he not have noticed them before? So long and full, looking like they couldn't possibly belong to a man, no one other than this creature of beauty sat before him could possibly carry them off. He looked the boy over, drank in his features - the softness of his skin, the plumpness of his full pink lips, his perfect white teeth. There was an instinctive urge inside of him, something he couldn't deny to his own conscience, and it drew him closer to the lad. He wanted to be near him, wanted to know what he smelt like, wanted to know how he would taste on his tongue.

For one glorious minute Brendan put all of his angst to one side, ignored the voice in the back of his head which denied the feelings he was having, that told him he was wrong and disgusting and backwards for _wanting _this man that sat before him. In that moment, as he watched his own reflection in the young lads eyes, he knew that nothing had ever felt so right; that the one thing he was missing with Eileen, whatever that was, it was here right now, and it was making his chest constrict and his breathing sharpen. The boy was looking back at him, all vulnerable and doe-eyed, unsure of himself and trying to make sense of whatever was rushing around his own head, dancing behind his eyes, making his palms sweat and his breathing intensify.

Brendan moved forwards, towards the boy, only a tiny amount; but he saw the boy move in the same direction, and knew then he was feeling it too. This connection. He couldn't deny it any longer, and he started to move towards him slowly, to close the gap between them.

"Here you are," Anne called out as she flung a couple of blankets onto the back of the sofa, unaware of the deep connection she had just snapped in two with her words, "Ste, you having a whiskey too?"

He jumped up quickly, his resolve all of a sudden weakened as his mind processed the moment the two of them had just shared.

"No, thanks love," he called out, voice faltering slightly, "I'm off to bed."

He glanced down at Brendan once more, his chest tightening as he felt the need to gasp for air, before slinking away into his room and closing the door behind him. He wasn't sure he was going to get much sleep tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thanks once again for your reviews! And sorry for the delay in updating. It's my sisters wedding this Saturday so things have been a little manic lately and I haven't had much time to write, but after this weekend that should change and I'll update more regularly. **_

_**I also had a few issues writing this chapter, you'll understand when you get to the end. It was a struggle to write, believe me, and as much as I hated it I kind of thought it was necessary for the story. Sorry to have to put you through it, though. **_

_**Let me know what you think anyway, your reviews always brighten up my day :)**_

Ste pushed down on the door handle slowly, wincing against the slight creak the springs made as he opened the door. He took a deep breath, partly to calm the nerves that he was feeling for some reason, and partly because he realised he had been holding his breath as he had stood in his room plucking up the courage to go out into the lounge, out to where _he _was sleeping.

He pulled the door open, only just wide enough to allow his slight frame to slip through, swallowed down hard as he stood still and eyed the back of the sofa. He didn't know if the guy would be awake, couldn't see if his eyes were open from where he was standing but at least he wasn't sitting up, wasn't properly up yet and he hoped he could sneak out without him noticing.

He padded across the back of the sofa, footsteps light as a feather, slowly placing each foot in front of the other quietly, avoiding the snap of his flips flops as he picked up his feet. He was dressed already, had written a note in his room which he placed down on the breakfast bar as he walked past, _Anne, gone to the office, meet you there. x. _He picked up his bag off the stool where he had left it after getting in from work the day before, slung the strap quietly over his head and picked up his keys from the bowl. He flung the front door open quickly, had made it this far without the Irishman waking and just wanted to make a run for it – he moved out of the flat quickly and slammed the door shut behind him, letting it take the weight of his body as he leant back against it, breath returning to his lungs, oxygen swimming through his brain once again.

There was something about that man – something in the way his eyes had met his own last night, in the way his tongue had darted out to wet his lips, pulling his bottom lip back onto his teeth. This man, whose first name he didn't even know yet, whose life he knew nothing about, and yet who he seemed to _know _already better than anyone before.

He shook his head and headed off to the hotel, planning to lose himself in that mountain of paperwork he had been avoiding for days, wanting nothing more than for everything to be as mundane as it had been a few days ago before this wall of confusion entered into his life.

-s-

Brendan jolted at the sound of the door slamming, eyes shooting open as he looked around, took in the unfamiliar surroundings and frowned. Where the hell was he?

He sat up, rolling his shoulders and wincing against the all too familiar throbbing inside his head, victim of the empty whiskey glass that sat on the table before him.

Realisation slowly set in as to where he was, how he had followed the boy home like some lovesick puppy, how he had lost all of his resolve when sat on this sofa the night before, how the girl had saved him as he stood on the precipice, about to dive into that world again, that world that he swore never to return to.

How could he have let himself be so weak? The boy would know now – he would know what he was. He had been there, had been with him in that moment, had seen reflected in his own eyes what he was sure he had seen in the boys. Lust. Need. Weakness.

The only thing he could think to do was to run, to get out of the flat and away from the memories of what his body nearly let him do, but as he stood the girl emerged from her room, lazily yawning in her short, silk, dressing gown. Brendan wished it was her, dressed like that, that was making him hot under the collar as any normal man would be, but instead his body did nothing – not even a slight prickle under his skin. Instead it reacts to the skinny, pretty boy who must have been the one running off a few minutes earlier.

"Morning," she groaned as she walked past him into the open plan kitchen area, "You want coffee? Toast, or something?"

He stood in silence, watching her milling around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboard doors and drawers in her nice-n-easy little life, not a care in the world besides how the Cypriots don't sell PG Tips. He huffed out a sigh in envy of her perfect little world.

"No, thanks," he replied quietly, "I best be gettin' off."

He picked up his jacket, turned to leave and make a quick dash for it, never had been one for the awkward chat the morning after and much less inclined to put himself through it when he hadn't even had the pleasure of a satisfying fuck the night before. Not that this girl could scratch that itch for him anyway.

"Er, no," she called out, all strong Northern female, won't stop until she gets what she wants, "This ain't a refuge centre, Irish, you need to earn your keep, you know."

He looked up to her, cocked his neck at her cheek, saw the smirk playing across her face and raised his eyebrows up to her in response.

"You can start with breakfast I reckon," she quipped, "And then you can at least tell me your name."

He sighed, couldn't help but be drawn in by her charm and sass, knew why her and Steven must get on so well, must be like looking in a mirror sometimes.

"Name's Brendan," he conceded quietly, "And the best ye gonna get out of me is toast, darlin'."

"I can live with toast," she smiled back, ignoring his obvious attempt to get out of it.

She stared at him now, smirking and nodding down to the toaster. He shook his head gently, taking off his jacket and throwing it down on the sofa, before sauntering into the kitchen and filling up the toaster, clicking it down and throwing a sarcastic smile in Anne's direction.

"Happy?" He asked with a smirk.

"I will be, as long as you make sure you butter it as soon as it pops, whilst the toast's still warm," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh, ye don't want for much do ye?" he laughed back.

She took her tea and circled the breakfast bar, perching on one of the stools as she watched Brendan buttering away. He must be a terrible cook, she thought, watching him make a meal of it, even making toast look difficult. She fought back her urge to laugh as he turned around with her plate, looking more than a little proud of himself.

"I can tell who does the cooking in your household, then," she quipped, but realised straight away the line she had crossed as she noticed the drop in his expression, the cloud descending over him as darkness filled his eyes.

He turned to butter his own toast, the atmosphere all of a sudden thick with the silence that filled it, their easy, banterous small talk a distant memory as Anne thought about ways to change the subject. She was blank, for once.

He brought his plate over and sat on a stool opposite her, and she could see it then – the look in his eyes. There was something - probably more than one thing - but there was definitely something, and she wanted to coax it out of him, wanted him to trust her with the burden he needed to share. She hated seeing people like this, alone with their thoughts. It reminded her of how she had been before Riley, how she had created this alter ego to help her cope with the big bad world outside – how Mitzeee had fought her battles for her, and she only had to deal with that isolation when she was back home, all alone at night – only then would she let the tears flow.

She recognised some of that in the man that sat before her now, and she longed to free him from his own self-sentenced prison.

"Rough night, then?" she asked quietly, cringing as soon as the words left her mouth, knowing how insincere and naïve she sounded. She was anything but.

He cocked his head up at her, fixing her stare with his wide open eyes, toast halfway into his mouth before her words had stopped him.

"Ye could say that, yeah," he replied, and it came out warmer than he expected, could sense how it seemed to ease her reluctance to push for more.

"You wanna talk it? About why you were out on the beach setting up camp for the night?" she questioned, matter-of-fact. He liked that.

He huffed out a laugh in response. He wasn't one to do this, didn't find it easy, talking about feelings. But this girl; he didn't know why, but he trusted this girl. When he looked closely into her eyes, when he really looked beyond the glammed up tart who stood up on that stage last night in front of everybody, when he looked beyond the pretty face and the fashionable clothes, there was a sadness there. A vulnerability. Something she had lost that she never believed she could get back again. It made Brendan relate to her, to the inward struggle he could tell she was battling with, and for the first time in a long while he felt comfortable enough to open up, even just a little.

"She thinks I'm having an affair," he confessed quietly, and upon noticing her accusatory glance he added, "with you."

Her eyebrows shot up, lips pursed.

"Oh," she let out, a little stunned, before her expression turned to one of confusion, "Wh – Why?"

He shrugged up at her, pausing as if he was asking himself the same question, searching for an answer that he was never going to find.

"Yer guess is as good as mine, love," was all he could muster up.

He could see the workings in her mind as she stared back at him. The two of them had not spoken until the night before, had barely even noticed each other, and she scrabbled back through her memories to try and find some substance his wife could have based the accusation on.

"Sorry, but that doesn't make any sense," she quipped, eyebrows still furrowed together as her mind started going in overdrive. What if this woman reported her? What if she confronted her in front of everyone? What if no-one believed her when she protested her innocence? She could lose her job, she could lose everything.

"Don't worry," Brendan jumped in, couldn't help but notice the fleeting panic running over the girls face, "I don't think she _really _believes it, even herself."

"I've not even spoken to you before last night," Anne insisted, slight panic to her voice.

"I know, it's ridiculous -"

"She can't go around accusing people -"

"She won't say anything -"

"She knows nothing about me, about what I've been through, how dare she just assume I'm some cheap hooker -"

"It's fine, don't -"

"It's not like I even act like that, like some hussy, that's not even me -"

"Honestly, just forget it -"

"My husband _died _last year!" she cried out, the confession shocking Brendan into silence, his protestations halting immediately. "He died, right, and I haven't even looked at another man since. And she thinks she can just throw around accusations like that about people she _doesn't even bloody know, _thinking just because I can put a brave face on - and I do put that face on every _single _day - it must mean I'm some, some _tramp_, with no grasp on reality, well I tell you what you can say to her, you can tell her to -"

"Ok, ok, let's not get personal -"

"Personal? It's a bit late for that, Irish!" she retorted as he tried to calm her, to soothe away the pain that he could see burning behind her eyes.

"Hey, it's ok," he assured her, unsure whether he should take her hand to calm her down or if even that level of physical intrusion would be too much for her right now.

She sighed heavily, swallowed hard and flung her head back, hoping gravity would draw the tears back into her eyes and stop them from falling. She wouldn't waste tears on this.

"I'm gonna talk to her," Brendan tried to reassure her, hoping it wasn't falling on deaf ears, "I'll make sure she knows, ok? For my sake as much as yours. Yeah?"

Anne ran her tongue against her front teeth behind her lips, pursing them as she shot a glance over at this man who had walked into her life and insulted her, after she had showed him such kindness the night before. She wanted to be mad at him, but she could sense it, could see behind his eyes that he was just as pissed off with this bunny boiler of a wife as she was right now.

"I should go," Brendan let out, standing and collecting up his coat as he did so.

Anne nodded, watching as he walked towards the door to leave. He glanced over at her, nodded back and went to grasp the handle.

"Brendan," she stopped him before he left.

She didn't know what she wanted to say. Maybe she should have been apologising for the outburst she had just had, when none of it was his fault, really. He was facing the same false accusation as she was. Maybe she should have been asking if there was anything she could do, to make this crazy wife of his see sense. Maybe she should have been offering to walk him back to the hotel, make sure he got there ok. She should be doing something to acknowledge the understanding they had shared.

"Thanks for the toast," was all she could give away.

But there was something in the way he looked back at her – at the way he smiled on one side of his mouth and nodded – and she knew then that he understood it all. Two kindred spirits, bound together by the pain and isolation they both recognised in the others eyes.

He turned away from her and left the flat, dreading what he would be returning it at the hotel.

-s-

Ste sat in the small office behind the reception desk, the one he and Anne shared, the windowless, depressing, 6x4 cell that he had locked himself into for the day. It was all grey walls and black leather furniture, as if Ste's mood had cast this dark shadow over the place. He could sense his headache setting in, after effects of sitting in this darkened room for the majority of the day with just a small desk lamp for lighting, trudging through the mountain of paperwork that him and Anne usually avoided like the plague. His dyslexia didn't help, made things slow and complicated, but he had dealt with it his whole life and he knew ways to work around it, how to deal with the things he couldn't do and focus on those that he could.

He was about to throw the stapler towards the door out of frustration at one customers complaint when the door swung open.

"So here's where you've been hiding," Anne exhaled as she burst in, light flooding over the darkened room making Ste squint back at her.

"Been catchin' up on admin, Mitz." he replied, trying to sound as unaffected as possible by the intrusion into his thinking space.

She didn't flinch at his use of her stage name. It used to bring back all sorts of memories for her - good and bad - of the times she had gone through before she married Riley. But now she saw it as a term of affection, knew he loved her on stage persona and loved the girl behind it even more, so she found it hard to take any offence against it.

She rounded the table, took the seat opposite Ste and tried to distract him from whatever it was that had forced him into tackling the mountain of paperwork that the pair of them avoided every week.

"You'll never guess what?" she started, tone light and amused, hoping the hint of some gossip could lure her best friend back into the real world.

Her efforts seemed fruitless, receiving just a grunt in response.

"So, our Irish friend was kicked out by his wife, because she thinks he's having an affair," she paused for dramatic effect, saw Ste stop whatever he was writing and look up at her through his lashes, "with me."

"What?!" Ste sat bolt upright, amusement creeping over his face, "you 'ant even met 'im until yesterday!"

"I know!"

"Does she think yer some kind of animal or summat?"

"Well, obviously, she must do," she added, and couldn't even laugh about it properly now. She was sick to death of this assumption women always made about her. She really couldn't help the way she looked, and truth be told she wished she could just hide away now, since she lost Riley, and not be noticed. Sometimes it wasn't so great to have eyes on you everywhere you went, especially accusatory eyes from jealous women with no regard for her feelings.

"Don't let it bother you," Ste comforted her, seeing the pain behind her eyes and recognising the exhaustion with it all – with putting a mask on for the rest of the world.

The thought made his mind wander back to what had happened with the Irishman the night before. They had _almost _kissed. He was sure of it. Sure he wasn't imagining it, wasn't hoping for it and doing that thing where his dreams exaggerated real life and he was getting the two confused. No – it had _definitely _happened. And, to tell the truth, if he could dare to do that to himself, he had _definitely wanted _it to happen.

He had felt something, some heat coursing through his veins; a fluttering of nervous excitement in his stomach; the thudding of his heart inside his chest as it started to race. His body seemed to switch up a gear, to a speed he had never reached before, never had such exhilaration pump through his body. He remembered the connection he had felt, the undeniable link between the two of them – this person he hardly knew, had never really spoken to, and a _man _alongside it all – yet none of that had mattered. None of it was relevant. All that he could see in that moment was how that man made him feel, and that no matter what anybody thought of it, no matter how many times he had heard people talk about how _wrong _it was – it had felt _right. _So unbelievably, inexplicably, unequivocally _right_.

He hadn't yet given himself chance to think about it, and it was only now that he did so, that he gave himself the courage to accept what had happened, that he suddenly felt something similar to relief coursing through his veins.

He had feelings for this man. He knew it now.

He had feelings for another man.

It was as if his internal battle had just fizzled away. He didn't want to lie to himself any more, didn't want to deny everything he was feeling just because some people might not agree with it. It didn't bother him with other aspects of his life. He had never cared what people thought of his Cheryl Cole obsession, or his penchant for a chavvy tracksuit when he wasn't in his work gear. He hadn't made any excuses for anything in his life, not for who he was anyway, and he was sure he didn't want to start doing so now.

Now, he just wanted to be honest.

He didn't know where he found the strength from, but it seemed to well up inside him as his brain processed everything, and he knew he had to come out and say it, just admit who he was. He just had to rip off the plaster, go for it, now or never.

"Anne," he breathed out, a purpose to his voice that shocked even himself. He steadied his nerves, took one deep breath and let the words roll out. "Anne, I'm gay."

And that was that. Just as simple as that. Two little words, and his world hadn't come crashing down around him, his soul was still intact, and all he saw was Anne smiling back at him. He couldn't believe he had finally said it, finally admitted it to himself, and it send a shiver through him. It was pure relief, as if a weight had well and truly been lifted from his shoulders, the ball and chain released from around his ankle.

He wasn't sure he was ready to tell _everyone _yet, but he was ready to share this with Anne – Anne who he trusted, explicitly, and who he knew would help him feel comfortable with this part of himself.

She stood up and rounded the table, arms outstretched, closing into him with a warm embrace that said everything she needed to say to him.

"I'm so proud of you, Ste," she whispered into his ear, could literally _feel _his wide grin spreading across his face.

They stood for what seemed like hours, holding each other, absorbing each others strength and warmth and comfort and love, as if they had both been starved of it before today. Ste had never been more thankful for a friend like her.

It was Anne that pulled away, held Ste at arms length and smiled back at him.

"Fancy going out tonight? Celebrate?" she asked excitedly.

"What? Celebrate me takin' too bleedin' long to realise which way I swing?" Ste replied cynically.

"No," Anne insisted, shoving his shoulder gently and smiling at his humility, "Celebrate you being brave and coming to terms with something you've taken a while to get used to. Celebrate how proud I am to be your friend. And celebrate the whole new world of sex you're about to start exploring!"

"Mitz!" He shoved her back now, gently, his mind presenting him with an image of the Irishman in his head, like some reflex reaction linked the thought of sex with his face.

She laughed back at him, drinking in his smile, a smile she felt as if she hadn't seen properly in months.

"What do you say then?" she asked, pushing for this night out, knowing she needed the break just as much as he did.

"Yeah, why not," he beamed back at her, "I'll just finish up here and I'll meet you back at the flat to get ready, yeah?"

"Sounds like a plan," she smiled as she hugged him again.

As she pulled away, she took a second to look into his eyes and she suddenly felt a wave of excitement for him, which she expressed in a wide open grin and a little wiggle as she walked out of the room. As she left she could hear him laughing at her warmly, and she knew tonight was going to be fun.

-s-

Brendan had been relieved to find his hotel room empty when he returned earlier that morning, happy to not have to face his vengeful wife or the excitement of Dec and Paddy in the state he had been in. It wasn't just that he hadn't slept well on that sofa, but it was the reason _why _he hadn't slept well, and he needed time alone to process that before he could face her for what was bound to be one more argument.

He had showered straight away, faintly remembering his actions when he was last in this shower and shuddering at how close he had come to giving in to the boy last night. Despite the searing heat outside, all he wanted to do was sleep right now, and he closed the blinds before falling back into the soft, crisp, white sheets on his side of the bed. He kicked his legs out to untuck the sheets from under the mattress, clear sign it had not been slept in on his side, and rolled onto his back, praying to let sleep take over.

He must have been exhausted, because the next thing he became aware of was the door slamming and Eileen's voice carrying through from the bathroom, getting the boys showered after their day in the sun. He blinked back the sleep in his eyes, groaned out and rolled to the side, picking up his watch from the bedside table. 17:45. He had slept all day.

He sat up in bed, sure he was about to face the Spanish inquisition from his wife. He steadied himself, prepared himself for it, decided what his story was going to be.

She seemed to be taking forever showering the boys, so he stood up and walked towards the bathroom, leaning up against the door.

"Hey boys," he smiled, voice full of fake enthusiasm as if he were talking to a dog, "You had fun down the beach today?"

"Yeah, Da'," they replied back in unison, before Dec proceeded to tell him all about the friends they had made whilst building sand castles, and how their friends dad had built them a moat and collected the water from the sea to fill the moat, and all Brendan was hearing behind it all was _Why can't you be as good a Dad as he is, eh? Why weren't you even there today, Da', _and it kills him that he can't answer them.

He smiles as they babble on and on with their tales, reacting with enthusiasm to all their anecdotes, playing the role of supportive father. It was not something that had ever come naturally to him, and he felt completely out of his depth with the kids around.

When the boys were showered and changed, Eileen let them out on to the balcony to play for a while, turning to face Brendan as soon as she shut the door.

"So, where did you sleep last night, Brendan?" she asked, voice riddled with accusation.

It was as if the question had been burning on her lips all day, the speed with which the words left her mouth as soon as the boys were out of earshot.

"I...I slept on the beach, Eileen," he lied, knowing full well the trouble the truth would bring him.

"And what you been doing all day today?"

She sure wasn't letting up.

"Well, I slept in here today, Eileen, because it was fucking cold and loud and uncomfortable out there last night. That ok with you?" he snapped, more than a little tired with her constant voice in his ear, bringing shadows over everything he did.

She didn't answer him, didn't elaborate on her crazy behaviour over the past 24 hours, didn't offer anything in the way of an apology for flipping on him and throwing him out last night.

"That it then?" he asked her, tone clearly tainted with the anger bubbling up beneath the surface, but he received nothing in response. "You not gonna say sorry, no?"

She offered nothing close to that, just carried on making the bed, straightening the sheets and trying to make them look as if they hadn't been slept in so that they were nice and fresh for when they got back later.

"Eileen, you're fucking crazy, you know that -" he muttered under his breath.

"Oh I'm crazy, now? You're the one that dragged your family over here on a whim -"

"Is that what this is all about?" Brendan was shouting now, rage coursing through him as he continued at her, "You throwing a strop because I fucked up and had to bring you out here to keep you safe?"

"Yeah you did fuck up, right -"

"I know I did, Eileen! I'm tryin' a make things right, ok, but you keep coming up wit' all this bullshit -"

"Don't swear in front of the children, Brendan."

"Fucks sake, woman, are ye for real?" he cried out incredulously.

"Brendan, I said don't swear -"

"Stop changing the subject, Eileen! You gonna tell me why ye're throwin' these fuckin' _lies _all over the place?"

"What lies?"

"Ach, come on, Eileen, don't play fuckin' stupid now. I've never even spoken to the girl and yer acting like she's my bit on the side."

"So you're denying it then, Brendan?"

"YES! Of course I'm fuckin' denying it, Eileen. It's the stupidest thing that's ever come out yer fuckin' mouth."

She dipped her head. She knew he was right, it was stupid to think he had been near that girl. He wouldn't have had a chance since he got here. It was just that she knew there was something missing in their marriage, for Brendan, and it meant she was constantly on the lookout for a solid reason, an inclination as to what that might be.

The room was thick with tension, with the words unspoken by both of them. They stood now, opposite sides of the bed, looking back at each other in silence. It was far from comfortable, and they both knew they had made mistakes. They hated arguing, though, especially in front of the kids, and Eileen didn't have the energy for it now.

"You're gonna have a shower," she started, looking at Brendan as she issued his instructions, "Then me, you and the boys are goin' to go for a nice meal, like any normal family would do on holiday. We're not goin' to argue, Brendan, and the boys are gonna see the pair of us happy together, ok?"

Brendan nodded, the thought of his boys weighing heavy on his mind now, knew he needed to be strong, to show a united front for their sake. He hoped they hadn't heard the argument from out on the balcony.

He did as she said, showered and changed for the evening, dressing in his black jeans and plain white t-shirt, casual and about as summery as his wardrobe got. They went out for dinner as a family, and things got easier as the evening rolled on, the tension easing away with each swig of a cocktail and as the minutes passed by.

He even managed to raise a small laugh out of Eileen as they finished up and paid the bill, her hardened exterior softening up as he played father of the year, messing around with the boys and carrying them back the hotel, one on his back and the other swinging in between his arms.

When they got back to the room Eileen took the boys from him, walking them sleepily into the bathroom to get changed for bed, then tucking them up for the night on the sofa bed which lay in the living room of their apartment.

Brendan poured himself a whiskey and watched Eileen and the boys. He was thankful that she seemed to have come round, to have seen sense enough to realise he wasn't having an affair with the holiday rep. He thought it wise not to mention him having slept round her flat last night, though.

When she walked over to him, she took the whiskey he had poured for her and rested up against the small kitchenette unit typical of these self catering holiday apartments.

"Look, Eileen," he started, trying to gauge her expression as she stood before him.

"Brendan, don't -"

"Let me explain, please Eileen," he begged. He never begged.

It made her stop and face him. Despite it all, despite the ranting and the arguments and all the things she had said to him earlier, she knew deep down she was in the wrong. She knew there was nothing going on with that girl, knew it was her mind exaggerating things and running away with itself. But she had always, all throughout their marriage, always had the suspicion that her husband was hiding something from her. She couldn't pinpoint it, but there was something he was holding back on.

"You don't really think I'd be with another woman, do ye?" He chose his words carefully, would never be lying to her when he said there was no other _woman _for him besides her.

She didn't really think so, no, but she needed reassurance from him. She needed to know she still had his love, his support. That despite it all, he was still going to be there to provide for her and for the boys. She needed him.

"Do you still love me, Brendan?" she asked, simply and quietly.

Her question shocked him, came completely out of the blue. It reeked of vulnerability and emptiness – she was slicing herself open and letting Brendan see all her insecurities, and he wanted to protect her from it all, from the depths of her own mind.

"Of course I love ye, Eileen," came his response, and even he wasn't convinced by it. He did love her, she mothered his children, if nothing else. But his heart didn't race when he saw her, and he knew exactly why that was. There was nothing about his wife he would change, but deep down he knew it wasn't a _wife_ that he wanted.

"Really?" she asked back, there again with her desperation laid bare in front of him.

"Yes," Brendan replied as he took a step closer to her, "Really."

She paused, as if reluctant to let her words out.

"Then show me," she said softly, cautiously.

Now it was her who was begging.

Brendan quirked an eyebrow as he caught her drift, knew what he had to do now to convince this woman that he meant what he was saying, but the mere thought of doing _that _with her seemed completely unnatural right now.

"Show you how, Eileen?" he asked, hoping she would quell his fears and come back with something completely different to what he suspected she meant, praying he wasn't going to have to convince her this way.

She did nothing to dispel his fears, though. Instead, she moved closer to him, tentatively placed a hand upon his cheek and leant up to kiss him on the lips. He was quite a way taller than her, and she was straining to reach him, so he leant down into the kiss for her. She took his gesture to mean more than he intended, to mean he was responding to her advances, and she kissed him again, lingering against his lips longer than he would have liked.

He knew there was no way out of this now. Knew what he had to do, knew he was going to have to go through with it to save their marriage. Every so often they seemed to reach this point, when it had been _too long _without sex in their marriage, and Brendan could hold her off for no longer.

He tried to make his actions seem as natural as they could, tried to kiss her back with the same passion she was expressing up against him, when everything inside him was writhing with distaste, squirming with how unnatural this felt to him now. With how much he really didn't want this.

His mind flicked back to the picture of Steven from the night before. As he kissed his wife and guided her into the bedroom, onto the bed, removing her clothes, he saw the image of the boy before him and was struck with the stark difference he felt now to how he had felt looking into the lad's eyes last night.

He had wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to feel his tongue against his own, to brush his teeth against his soft lips, to feel his body coming apart beneath him. He tried to superimpose those feelings onto his current situation, kept his eyes squeezed shut and tried to imagine it was that boy below him now, writhing around and grabbing out to shed him of his last remaining clothes.

He imagined it was the boy rolling him over and working kisses down his torso, making his way south and enveloping him into his raw heat. He was hard, and he swore it was only because of the image of that boy, the scene imagined from his dreams the night before, and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes because he knew what he would be faced with.

The foreplay was rushed, Brendan having no inclination to spend longer doing this than was necessary, and he hoped it came across as passion to get close to her rather than a need to get the act over and done with as soon as possible.

He fucked into her with quick, ragged thrusts, hard and unforgiving, needing his release and knowing the only way to get it with her was to close his eyes and picture someone else. He flipped her over, onto her front and fucked her doggy style from behind, needing everything about this to be as close as it could be in his mind to fucking young Steven in order to keep himself interested.

He was rough and desperate, vaguely aware of the way she was panting out his name below her, but his senses were numbed to her, they were closed off to her ministrations as he shut his eyes and imagined her to be someone else entirely. He was detached, separate from her even though they were joined together as one. Nothing about it was comfortable or enjoyable, not for Brendan, and whilst she didn't seem to be complaining, he was praying for his own release so that it could all be over.

He fucked into her hard, harder still and flung his head back, mind racing with the images of the boys toned, lithe abs as he had watched him around the pool yesterday. He thought of that fire he had seen in his eyes in the bar the other night, and the pure unmistakable lust that had seeped out of him last night at his flat. He grabbed onto Eileens hips, slammed home repeatedly, imaging it was Steven he was about to empty himself into and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from screaming out the boys name.

He came forcefully, pulling out from her as soon as he did, thinking to himself _thank fuck _that it was over. She fell onto the bed beside him, self-satisfied and smiling in a way Brendan was sure he had never seen before.

She leant up to kiss him as he knelt before her on the bed.

"That was amazing," she breathed out, body still spent from the workout it had just received. She was dropping off to sleep in her post coital haze, and Brendan removed himself from her grip and walked back into the other room without saying a word. He poured himself a whiskey and took it out onto the balcony.

He couldn't believe he had just done that. Fucked her senseless, maybe better than he ever had done before, but only because his mind had been racing with images of the skinny little Mancunian boy he had met a few days ago.

As if by pure coincidence, as he watched over the pool area below, he saw Steven and Anne walking past the palm trees on their way out of the bar. He heard the lads deep, booming laugh, reminiscent almost of a donkey, and caught himself smiling affectionately at another new thing he was learning about him.

The contented pair walked around the pool, the moonlight shining over them and highlighting the smiles on both of their faces.

He didn't have the energy to be disgusted with himself any more. He was sure that would change, but right now, after the way his body had just come undone at the thought of touching the boy, all he could think of was finding that lad tomorrow. He had no idea what he would say to him, or what he would do. But there was a thirst inside him right now, and it seemed Steven was the only one who could quench it.

_**Sorry. I'm really sorry about that last bit. Bleugh. Lol. It'll never happen again. I'll make it up to you next chapter, I promise ;)**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thank you as always for your reviews/follows/favourites/just general reading!**_

_**This is a looooong chapter, hope you don't mind! I've been writing it as one day per chapter, and it seems every day that goes by more and more happens, so it may be that the chapters get longer and longer as time goes on.**_

_**As I said before I will hopefully be updating more regularly from now on.**_

_**Enjoy ;)**_

**Day Five**

"Who's Steven?"

Brendan had been vaguely aware of his eyes opening and the question invading his ears almost instantly. Panic descended him. He was in that tight space between dreaming and reality and he needed to snap out of it to answer this question. Why was she asking about him?

Who was Steven anyway? And why was Eileen sitting next to him in bed, still naked from their intimacy the night before – intimacy which had felt completely alien and regimented to Brendan – asking about the boy?

He urged his mind to start separating fantasy from reality as soon as fucking possible because who Steven was to him right now was the warm, supple, willing body that he had been fucking all night in his dreams, and he couldn't offer that explanation up to his wife right now.

"Huh?" he replied, buying himself time, blinking back the sleep in his eyes and plastering a look of genuine confusion on his face.

His wife smiled back at him and it calmed him a little. Whatever was going through his mind right now, whatever thoughts he was having about the boy, images he had constructed in his mind of things he was hoping to do to him - she couldn't see that. Her smile would be long gone if she had even the faintest idea.

"Steven – who is he?" she asked again, not interrogative just genuinely interested.

His mind was waking now, slotting those images of himself and Steven in the most compromising of positions into the file inside his brain marked 'dreams'.

"Erm...I dunno. I don't know a Steven," he lied. "Why?"

She smiled back at him, fooled, and leant in to kiss him. He flinched back at the contact, and she tried her best to ignore his reflex reaction.

"Just you called his name out in the night," she shrugged, as if it was nothing, "Woke me up, it did. Sounded like you were fighting with him or something."

If he hadn't of been so panicked by her words, by his own indiscretion, he may have found that funny. He knew he needed to be careful, but how could he control his subconscious? He huffed out a laugh and tried to glaze over it, leaning across to his bedside table and picking up his watch.

"Eight fifteen am?" he cried out, frowning as he glanced back at Eileen, "Ye havin' a fuckin' laugh, Eileen?"

"Oh, calm down, Brendan," she smiled back at him, her aggression towards her husband seeming to have disappeared thanks to their antics the previous night. Brendan shuddered at the memory. "Me and the boys have that excursion today, so we've got to get up. You can stay in bed."

She kissed him on the forehead and left the bed, Brendan not watching as she sauntered around naked, he just rolled over and tried to drift back off to sleep. This was far too early for him – he couldn't remember the last time he had seen this time of day.

He tried to drift off but it was no use. He could hear Eileen and the kids in the front room, getting up and ready for their trip. They were trying to be quiet but he was focused on them and there was something else keeping him awake anyway.

He couldn't believe he had been so stupid to call out his name in the night. He knew the lad was getting to him, knew he had fucked his wife the night before and all he had thought about throughout the whole thing was Steven. How different Steven would feel below him; how different he would sound when Brendan rode into him; how fucking sweet he would taste when he swallowed him whole. Jeez, the thought of it even now was making him semi-hard.

He cursed himself. As much as he had swore never to return there, never to give into that weakness inside of him, he toyed with the idea of giving in to Steven. Giving in to the boy – to himself. If he was calling out his name in his sleep, if he had gotten under his skin that badly, maybe he needed to just scratch that itch, just the once, get the lad out of his system and off his mind and stop any chance of him screaming his name again in the dead of the night.

He scared himself with this trail of thought, with this concession to his own interior battle, his surrender to the demons inside of him. He knew though that once this had taken hold of him, there was no way he could walk away from it. He needed something, even just a taste of the boy, to satisfy his cravings, and then he swore to himself that he would leave it alone. He was like an addict, needing just one more hit, one dose to settle his anxiety and then he would give it up. _Just one more hit_.

As soon as Eileen left he was up, throwing the covers back and he was showered and dressed within minutes. He made sure he looked good. He didn't know why it was important to him, but it was. He needed to make sure he could persuade the boy if it came to that. He chose his dark denim jeans and a casual white t-shirt, one which gripped to his stomach muscles and he knew it made him look sexy as hell. He took a little extra time styling his hair, and shaved away his stubble, leaving him fresh faced apart from the perfectly shaped moustache.

He picked up his aviator shades, slid them over his ears and looked at himself in the mirror with more than a hint of admiration. He wasn't so much arrogant, just sure of himself. Sure he had what it took to get exactly what he wanted.

He left his hotel room with high hopes for the day ahead.

He faltered when he reached the hotel lobby, realised he didn't have a clue where he would find the boy. In an effort to look nonchalant he headed straight to the breakfast room, realising on his way there that the boy had been out last night with his flatmate, the memory of watching him from his balcony almost sending a shiver down his spine, and he conceded that the lad might not be up this morning.

He took time over his breakfast, watching the door intently, his breath hitching slightly every time the door opened. When he had finished he sauntered around the lobby, looking through every door he could find, but he wasn't anywhere to be found. He opened the door to the bar, only to find Anne in there hosting a welcome meeting with some of the new arrivals. She glanced at him, gave him a strange look out of the corner of her eye, as if to say _what-are-you-up-to?, _but he turned around and left before he interrupted her meeting properly. He considered waiting around outside for her to finish, but he didn't want to appear too desperate, and he didn't want the girl asking questions either.

If Anne could get herself up for work by now, he hoped Steven could do too, and he continued his quest around the hotel. He took up residence on a sun lounger out by the pool, casting his eyes over every sun worshipper he could find in the hope than one of them would be the boy, but he was still nowhere to be seen. He got up and walked around, changing positions, hoping maybe he had been one of the few people Brendan couldn't make out from where he was sat before but it was still fruitless. He wasn't here.

It was nearing lunchtime and Brendan nipped back into the restaurant to help himself to the buffet. He was still on alert, aware of every movement around him, every coming and going, waiting to see him. He was getting anxious now, wondering where the hell he was. He had tried to avoid the lad for the past few days and he had been there, every time he turned; now he wanted to see him and he had disappeared off the face of the earth.

After lunch he returned to the hotel lobby, knew the holiday company's desk had to be manned between 1pm and 4pm, but as he turned the corner he found Anne sitting there covering the duties and his stomach seemed to sink even further. She caught his eye again, gave him a similar look as before but he shrugged it off and moved on.

The only place he hadn't tried was the hotel gym. He returned to his room and quickly changed into his gym gear, packing his swimming stuff as well in case Steven was in the indoor pool. He almost ran down to the gym, glancing around as soon as he entered and hoping to find him there. He wasn't. He spent the next hour working out, trying to look inconspicuous, as if this is what he had come here to do. He finished on the weights and headed to the indoor pool. He changed quickly, walked in and once again scanned the place but there was no sign of him. He tried the sauna and the steam room – still nothing.

He was getting increasingly frustrated as he left the gym, getting showered and changed in their changing rooms and returning to the main hotel. He did another sweep of the grounds, checking in every bar, alcove, restaurant he could find in the place. Nothing.

He was getting more than frustrated, more than a little desperate now and it was eating him up inside. Where the fuck could he be?

He stopped in his tracks. The flat. Of course, it must be his day off.

Brendan turned and walked as fast as his legs could take him, out of the hotel grounds and over the busy road to the quaint villas on the other side. He darted up the stairs and pounded his fist against the door to their flat.

He paced outside the door, waiting for an answer but when none came he pounded again. He stopped, listening for movement inside the flat. He could hear nothing.

"Steven!" he called out, desperation getting the better of him. He needed to see him, if nothing else.

He pounded again, and waited. And waited. And waited. He must have been there fifteen minutes, maybe more, knocking and waiting.

He wasn't in.

Where the fuck was he then? The irrational side of him was starting to get a little worried. What if he had upped and left? What if his and Anne's drinks last night had been leaving drinks? What if he never saw him again? What was he meant to do then?

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and his heart beat quickened. He knew it was irrational but he had been searching for him all day, he needed to see him now just to know he was alright, if nothing else.

It was Anne that rounded the corner though, clocking Brendan's frazzled epxression and shooting him a look of concern.

"Hi," she smiled at him, her expression clouding over with humour, "Does your wife know you're here?"

He shot her a look of _not-fucking-funny _and she tried to hide her smile for his benefit.

"Hi," he answered back, voice ragged and edgy.

"You ok?" she asked, concerned now, could see the cloud cast over his face.

"Ye, erm," he tried to think on his feet, needed an excuse for being here that wasn't _I'm looking for Steven because I need to fuck his brains out so that I can stop thinking about him all the fucking time_. "Did I leave my sunglasses here the other night?"

"Erm," she looked back at him, more confused now than before, pointing to his chest, "You mean, the ones hooked into your t-shirt?"

He laughed - a shallow, panicked laugh.

"I have two pairs," he replied, deadpan.

She seemed satisfied with that explanation and moved to turn her key in the door.

"I've not seen them but come in and have a look."

As soon as she was through the door Brendan followed her in, looking around the place, not for his glasses but for signs of Steven. He saw two empty coffee cups by the sink – two people had been here this morning – good. There was laundry drying out on the balcony – he could see mens clothes, polo t-shirts, boxers. He couldn't have left then - his clothes were still here.

After scouring the living room he moved into Steven's bedroom, the door already open, and his chest deflated slightly when he saw Steven wasn't in there. He looked around though for more signs of life – his watch on his bedside table, wardrobe door still open and clothes still all there, a tub of hair wax on the chest of drawers with the lid still off.

He definitely hadn't left then. He didn't know why, didn't want to think about why, but relief shot through him and a strange sensation ripped through his body.

He glanced over to the bedside table once again, eyes fixing now on the photoframe beside his bed, four people laughing and hugging and happy. One of them was Steven, his smile doing something to Brendan as he looked at it. There was a girl - blonde, slim, pretty - she was smiling too, and she had her arms around Steven. And then there were two kids, a girl about 4 and a boy about 2, both blonde and cute as anything. His kids. Steven's kids. They looked perfect, so content in their fathers company, and for a split second Brendan couldn't help but compare it to the way he felt in his own fathers company. At their age, he may well have felt the same way they do. Now though, there's nothing but darkness when he thinks of that man.

He shuddered, hiding those thoughts away, never to be dragged up again.

He looked at the picture again, wondered if the girl was the one Steven had been talking to on the phone that night at the bar, the one who was trying to take his kids away from him. He wondered what must have happened to take them from where they were in that photo to where they are now. What went wrong?

"Why would your sunglasses be in here?" Anne questioned, appearing at the door. He hoped she hadn't been stood there long, watching him.

"Dunno, just thought I'd check," he replied, feigning indifference.

"They're not," he answered in response to her silent question.

"You want a cuppa?" she asked, trying to lighten the strange atmosphere that seemed to have descended, "You seem to have been running around like a man on a mission whenever I've seen you today."

She was a good girl, Anne. Caring, loyal. He could probably tell her everything that was making him panicky, that he was desperately searching for Steven and the reason why that was, and he knew she would keep his confidence. But he didn't want to say any of it out loud; to do so would be to admit something that he was nowhere near admitting to himself.

"No, I'm ok," he declined her cup of tea, was running out of time to find Steven before Eileen and the kids got back, "Thanks, though."

"Ok," she smiled as she left the room.

Brendan followed her through, walked towards the front door and was itching to ask her, find out where Steven was, but he couldn't risk her seeing. Seeing that it was Steven making him act like this.

"I spoke to Eileen, by the way," he spoke quietly as he opened the door to leave, "She knows nothings going on, y'know -" and he pointed between himself and Anne, to illustrate his point.

"Good," Anne replied, her smile genuine, a little relief flashing over her face, "I've not seen her around since."

"She's on that trip today," Brendan offered by way of explanation, "Some famous rock?"

"Aphrodite's Rock," Anne explained with a smile, "Yeah, Ste's heading that one up today. They should be back soon."

That's where he was. Of course, if Anne was here, he had to be on the excursion. Relief flooded through him – he was OK.

"Right," Brendan nodded as he turned to leave, "See you later."

"Bye," he heard Anne call from behind him.

-s-

Ste was fed up now, tired of smiling through his banging hangover, had been putting a face on it all day long for the sake of the tourists he was meant to be entertaining and it was really starting to grate on him now. He loved his job but he struggled to put on a show at the best of times, least of all when he had managed to work his way through 5 tequila sunrises and half a bottle of JD last night. He's gonna kill Anne when he gets home.

They finally get back to the hotel and Ste thanked everyone, asking them all if they've had a good time and wincing as he felt his own smile creep up to his cheeks. This was getting painful, and he couldn't wait to get back to the flat and collapse into his bed.

Once all the passengers had gotten off the bus, he sauntered into the reception area and collapsed against the Reception desk – too hung over to care how unprofessional he looked now.

"Help me, Tonio," he begged at the older man behind the reception desk, who smiled back at him and clapped his hands loudly behind Ste's head, laughing to himself at the way Ste flinched back up and scowled at him.

"Tonio!" he cried out.

"You get no sympathy from me for your drinking all night, senor," Tonio replied in his thick Cypriot accent.

"Oh, Tonio, don't," Ste pleaded back as the older man laughed.

"Hey, Pedro, you seen the state of young Steven here," Tonio called out to Pedro in the office behind reception, who came sauntering out and laughed at Ste in his sorry state.

"Oh, dear," Pedro laughed, "Too much, too young, that's what this is Tonio."

"Oh, shut it, you two," Ste pleaded with a smile on his face, "Anne's fault not mind anyway."

"A-ha! Of course!" Tonio laughed back.

"We're going for drinks after work tonight, Ste, I guess you don't want to join us?" Pedro asked.

"Not sure I could face it, Pedro," Ste replied.

Sofia finished dealing with her customer and walked over to the three of them.

"Oh, you have to Ste," she begged, "Almost everyone is coming."

"I feel rough," he pleaded.

"What is it you say?" Sofia questioned, "The dogs hairs?"

"Hair of the dog," Ste corrected her with a smile.

"Yes! You will feel better once you drink more," she was positively beaming, and Ste found it hard to resist. He knew he didn't swing that way but Sofia had always been good company, as had the rest of the hotel staff.

"Ok, I'll see how I feel after a kip," Ste conceded, knew he'd never win.

"Excellent," Sofia smiled.

Another of the reception staff emerged from the office and pulled a miserable expression.

"Ah, don't tell me you're going for a drink too, Ste?" the man asked.

"I _might _do," Ste replied, glancing at Sofia with a smirk.

"I'm so jealous, I have to work the late shift."

"You could join us on your break?" Ste suggested at the man, smiling.

"So you _are _coming then!" Sofia exclaimed excitedly, picking up on the 'us' in Ste's reply.

He smiled at her, "Only if Charlie joins us on his break."

"Oh I am in," the attractive man replied, smiling at Ste.

"Ok, I'll go sleep off my hangover and meet you later," Ste told them with a smirk, "See you later, I guess?"

"Hotel bar at 8," Sofia replied, before all of them added, "Bye' Ste!"

Brendan stood in the lobby and made out to follow him, knowing Ste was heading back to the flat and he would be alone there. Maybe this was his opportunity.

He walked out from behind the pillar where he had been hiding, went to walk after Ste but saw Eileen, Dec and Paddy walking in through the hotel entrance. His heart dropped, his face hiding the disappointment and making out he was happy to see his family instead, that he had been stood here waiting for them and not about to follow some lad he hardly even knew back to his flat to have his wicked way with him. Opportunity missed, he conceded.

"Hi, darlin'," he cringed as he leant over to kiss Eileen, scooping Paddy up into his arms, "Good day?"

"Yeah, thanks Brendan," she smiled, "That's really sweet of you to be waiting for us. You miss us did ye?"

If only she knew.

"Yeah, course," he lied.

"I'm thinking we go back to the room, get ready, and you take us all out for a nice meal in the old town tonight. What d'ye think?"

"Sounds great," Brendan smiled back at her, lying again.

He might have to wait until tomorrow to get his hit. It would be worth it though, he was sure.

-s-

It had been a long night, sitting opposite Eileen at dinner; Dec and Paddy excitedly telling him all about their day, the friends they had made on the coach and the beach they had stopped at on the way home. Eileen hadn't taken her eyes off him throughout dinner, look of adoration in her eyes as Brendan chatted away with their kids. Like a perfect little family.

When the boys moved onto dessert, Brendan moved his attention to his wife and tried to play the doting husband, asking her about her day trip, listening to all the tales of this romantic place she had visited, how he should have come along, he would have loved it. He hated the way Eileen was like this. He had given in to her, indulged her for one night, and she always reacted this way, as if he was now the perfect husband. She fluttered her eyelashes at him, spoke as if he was some great romantic and her knight in shining armour, not some nasty piece of work who had to bring his family here to keep them away from the mafia-like danger he had put them in, like he hadn't been picturing some other _guy _the whole time he had been fucking her senseless the night before.

It made his skin crawl, but he gritted his teeth and bore it, knowing this was better, if only marginally better, than having her at his throat for the entire time they were here. When she was like this she was oblivious, at least. He could get away with all manner of things right in front of her when she was in this haze, and he intended starting tonight by spending the rest of the evening drinking by himself on the beach.

He walked them back to the room after dinner, as soon as they opened the door he was making his apologies and leaving, picking up his bottle of whiskey off the side and telling Eileen he was off for a drink with one of the lads he had met in the gym today.

True to form, she smiled and told him to enjoy himself, no questions asked, although even he wasn't blind to the disappointment behind her eyes. He wasn't going back there, though. No way he could put himself through that again right now. Not when all he could think of was the boy.

He made his way down to the beach, breathing in the fresh sea air and letting the sound of the waves against the sand wash over him. He sat down on the end of one of the sun loungers, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He opened up his whiskey and took a long, stinging gulp, straight from the bottle. It felt reckless, to be sat on the beach doing this, but he had been feeling reckless all day.

He lay down, his back and head connecting with the hard plastic of the sun loungers. He could hear the muffled sounds of music coming from the bars just down the way, a few squeals as excited holidaymakers drank away merrily with friends. It all washed over him, made him feel anxious, wishing he could be as carefree as them.

He leant his neck up to take another lazy swig from the bottle, felt the burn as it trickled down his throat. He felt the alcohol rushing through his body, calming his senses. It was only now he realised how highly strung he had been all day. How he had been on edge, searching constantly for the boy, desperation seeping out of him, a need to satisfy that urge inside of him, that sinful desire.

The sinful desire he had always had, the one he had lived his whole life with, for as long as he could remember. He had learnt to control it, to control himself, and after he had been there, when he finally succumbed to it with Vincent and then Macca all those years ago, he had rendered himself even weaker than before. He had given himself a taste, a snapshot of what it could be like, what it felt like to be with a man, and he had known – he had known that this was it for him.

He had still spent most of his life fighting against it. Against this urge he had whenever a skinny, pretty, fair haired lad crossed his path. He had a blatant type, and he knew it. Steven was exactly it. He had that fire within him, too. That feistiness that set Brendan's insides alight, made his cock twitch when he saw the hackles rise on a boy like him. He loved it when they fought back, when they argued and raged at him and then fell into him and let him consume them, let them soak up all the anger until all that was left was a hot sticky mess and an appetite for more.

Jesus. His mouth was watering just at the thought of it.

He snapped himself out of it. He had been going through these motions for years. The devil inside of him tempting him, telling him how good it would be, how delicious the boy would taste against his tongue, how he would make his heart race at the sight of him grinding below him, working his cock into a frenzy. Brendan knew it was true, knew all the devil told him was right, that it would be fucking spectacular every time, but he knew at the end of it all that it was the devil, Lucifer inside of him who made him feel that way, and he had to resist the temptation to give in.

He had to resist. He had to push the boy away. He had to stop this before it went too far. Before he got himself in too deep. When things had ended with Vincent, it was because Brendan knew what he was doing was wrong. He had had his fill, given in to the devil and his temptation, but he had had enough by the end of it, and he pushed the boy away. It had been easy – easy to see the back of the boy - because he meant nothing. But the urges, the desires he had - he would never see the back of them, he knew it.

He had lived without giving in to that temptation for years now. Hadn't touched another man in years.

But Steven was bringing it all back. Steven was blurring the lines again, weakening his defences with his fucking beautiful face and his perfect little body, and Brendan knew it was dangerous territory.

He resolved, right here and right now, that he would get a grip on himself. That he couldn't act on this. That the boy was just a passing phase, that he could stay strong and stay away from him. That the yearning in his body would fade. That the heat he felt course through him when the boy was there would leave him eventually.

He made a vow. He promised himself he would leave the boy alone. It was wrong to act on the way he felt, it was weak, and he wasn't weak. He couldn't be weak. He _wouldn't _be weak, not anymore.

As if God was testing him instantly, he heard that unmistakable deep booming laugh travel towards him from further down the beach. The same laugh that he had witnessed from the balcony the night before, the one that had made him run cold all over, made him weak at the knees inexplicably.

It was making him weak again now. Weak in his resolve. Too weak to keep the promise he had just made to himself.

"Charlie, shut up!" He heard the lad whine jokingly, shouting at the top of his voice with his unmistakable northern accent.

Brendan turned his head towards the sound, curious all of a sudden. He couldn't help himself.

They were far away; far enough that Brendan couldn't hear their conversation yet, only Steven's booming laugh every few seconds, but they were walking closer and they would come into earshot soon enough. The lad was stumbling, maybe not yet drunk but getting there, and Brendan was sure he could see a bottle of spirit in his hand. Sure enough, he passed it over to his friend, _Charlie, _who knocked back a gulp and passed it back to Steven.

Brendan snapped his head away as soon as he saw the boy looking over. He was close enough to notice Brendan now – not close enough that Brendan could make out the features of this _Charlie _who seemed to have shot straight to the top of the list of Brendan's most hated, but he could still hear Steven laughing at him and it made his head spin.

After everything he had just resolved to himself. The way he had just managed to grab hold of his emotions, push the demons further into the recesses of his own mind and swore to fight them until the end of time; after all that, one glance from this boy and he could feel it being chipped away already. A warmth shot through his chest, melted his insides involuntarily, formed a lump in his throat which he swallowed down. He would give anything right now to be able to stop that – the effect the boy was having on him. He didn't want that; it wasn't him. He wasn't used to exercising such a ridiculously low level of self control, and he urged himself to snap out of it.

He heard the lads voice again in the distance, he shouldn't have been able to hear him from where he was but it was as if the gentle sea breeze was carrying the sweet sound towards him, preparing him for what was to come.

"You better get back, Charlie," the Mancunian urged at his companion, laughing tipsily, "Your break was over, erm, I'm gonna say ten minutes ago."

There was a pause before he heard a reply, couldn't make it out but heard the boys booming laugh in response, his cheek twitching at the sound, didn't know if it was the way he laughed so freely that made his breath hitch, or the bitterness he felt towards _Charlie _at being the one to draw that sound out of his mouth.

_Pull yourself together, Brendan_.

He muttered it under his breath, took another swig of whiskey from the bottle and heaved out a sigh. He couldn't hear the voices anymore, hoped the boy had gone because he was dangerously drunk and feeling reckless right now and the way his previous resolve had just caved in at the distant sound of his laugh meant he was seriously concerned about his lack of self control around the boy.

"Mr Brady," he heard from behind him.

He swallowed, chest pounding suddenly at the way the boy said his name. _Bray-dehh. _Slow, drawn out, like it was pure sex rolling out of his mouth.

"Steven," he replied under his breath, not even needing to look around to see it was him.

The boy walked around and stood in front of him, and Brendan reluctantly flicked his head up and took in the sight before him.

Fuck. He really was beautiful. Stunning against this moonlight, highlighting his razor sharp cheekbones and his Bambi-like features.

He was wearing those same white denim cut offs than Brendan knew his arse looking fucking stunning in, and a turquoise polo with white stripes around the collar and sleeves. He was sure in the glare of the midday sun it would bring out his shining blue eyes, eyes that seemed slightly glazed over now under the influence of the half bottle of ouzo which was missing from the bottle he held in his left hand. He compared that with the three quarters of whiskey that was missing from his own bottle and wondered which out of the two of them was most under the influence.

He ducked his head back down, couldn't bear to look at the lad much longer. His heart beat had started to increase slightly, and he didn't want to entertain the thought of what was doing this to him. He knew deep down. He knew this boy had gotten under his skin. He would fight against it, deny it until he was blue in the face but his body betrayed him. It always had.

It wasn't just that the lad reminded him of Vincent. It wasn't _just _that. It had been that to begin with, had been that fact which made his stomach turn the first time he had seen him on the coach from the airport, part with lust and part with apprehension.

But Steven was different to Vincent. He knew that even now, even after one or two stunted conversations and four days worth of watching from a distance. He was sassier. Feistier. He had more fire in him than Vincent had. And he was beautiful. Vincent had been attractive, fuckable, sweet when he had come apart beneath him. But the more he looked at Steven, the more he saw his beauty – the flick of his eyelashes, the smoothness of his flawless skin, the depth of pain behind his own eyes, that Brendan recognised instantly, and it made him even more beautiful.

He was broken, damaged – Brendan could tell. And it only pulled him closer to the boy.

It was the reason he couldn't look at him now, for fear of what his alcohol drenched body would try to do to him.

Brendan lay back on the sun lounger, knees bent over the edge and bare feet still half buried into the sand. He groaned as he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing against his eyes in disbelief. He had broken that promise to himself in record time.

He heard the lad at the foot of the sunbed, shuffling as he sat down, cross legged, about a foot in front of him. They sat there together in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of the waves crashing behind them, the occasional lift and swig out of a bottle from one or both of them.

Brendan felt a tickling against the top of his foot, flinched slightly before realising what it was. Steven was picking up handfuls of sand and letting it fall down onto his feet. It was innocent, playful, but something about it felt sensual, as if he shouldn't be letting him do it. As if the fact that he was enjoying it was some sort of admission, some concession of defeat against the boy.

He let him continue though. The sand was cool as it bounced off him, and soon both his feet were completely buried. Brendan pulled himself up onto his elbows, looked down to the foot of the sun lounger and could see him there, his face glaring back at him, hint of mischief in his eyes and a faint smile ghosting over his lips. His fucking perfectly kissable lips. His resolve was weakening. Had already weakened, if he was honest. He swallowed down, images of his dreams from the night before playing before his mind as the lad continued to glare back, continued to pick up handfuls of sand and brush them against his shins now, making his way up. He could hear himself in his own mind, telling himself to be strong and to resist it, but he was too far gone now, too soaked up in the lads willing eyes, whiskey burning down his defences and convincing him that this was alright, this was ok, it wasn't too far and he could control it. He had to control it. But he wasn't ready to push away yet.

He raised an eyebrow as the lad looked up at him. He knew this was dangerous. He could see the lust in the lads eyes; knew the alcohol was making him weaker than ever before, at the same time as making Steven stronger. More confident. It was undoubtedly dangerous.

He hoped it was the whiskey making him lose sight of himself, anyway. If this was just the boy doing this to him he was in trouble.

Not a word passed between them, not a single sound, just the waves crashing up against the rocks and the trickle of the tide as it pulled the shallow water in and out, in and out.

Ste didn't know what was giving him the courage, the balls to paw over this man in front of him – this man that had come here with his wife and their children. He had sectioned those facts off inside his mind. He was drunk, yes, but it was the pull in the mans eyes, the way he was looking back at him now that made him know that he was enjoying this. He wanted him to continue. He wanted him.

He pulled himself up onto his knees and crawled towards him, right next to his feet now as he took a deep swig from his bottle. Brendan was wearing smart khaki shorts, which had ridden up, exposing his pale hairy legs, and Ste held up another fistful of sand and looked straight into his eyes as he let it whisper out of his hands, over the mans knees and shins.

The way he was looking back at him, the way his chest was heaving up and down as he lay back on the lounger, the way he swore he could see his dick pushing against the crotch of his shorts – it was making Ste hungry for more. He felt reckless, like nothing he could do would come back on him, like he could push this man to his limits and he would let him. Like there was no tomorrow to worry about right now.

Ste leant over him, grabbing the bottle of whiskey out of his hand as it rested against the side of the sun lounger. He saw the Irishman's breath hitch with his movement, aware that as he reached for the bottle he had almost draped himself over his body, brushing dangerously close to the bulge he could definitely see now in his shorts.

Ste took a swig from the bottle, eyes locking with his as he did so, testing his resolve. He placed it back down in the sand, to the left of the sun lounger along with his own bottle, and grabbed another fistful of sand.

Brendan watched on, almost in awe of the boy as his eyes travelled over his body, appreciation and want and need reflecting in his eyes, sure his own were betraying the same weakness. He flinched upwards as he felt the sand brush against his torso, Steven having found the inch of exposed flesh where his shirt had ridden up, and he laughed heatedly. The boy leant down again, fist in the sand to get himself more ammunition, his other hand shakily running alongside Brendan's hip bone, daring, pushing his shirt up to expose his belly button and treasure trail. He saw the lads eyes glance down, couldn't resist taking it in, the appreciation of his body clear in his face, and it sent heat coursing through Brendans body. He was fucking hard for him now and he knew it, and he needed the boy to know it too.

Steven lifted his hand from the sand and was about to empty its contents onto Brendan when he stopped him, grabbed both the boys wrists and sat up quickly, his head going slightly dizzy with it, a wanton smile breaking across his face.

He lifted the boy up by his wrists, his knees leaving the floor and as if he was reading Brendan's mind he climbed up into his lap, straddling him, right where he had wanted him. Brendan held his wrists out to the side, laughing darkly as the lad tried in vain to struggle free. They were both in the haze of drink and lust and passion and Brendan felt just as drunk off this boy whose body was sliding closer and closer towards him as he did from the whiskey.

He let go of Steven's wrists, moving his hands around the lads back and pulling him closer, close enough so he could feel the effect the lad was having on his cock, and noticed he could feel Steven's own arousal prodding him in the stomach too.

Without a seconds thought he leant his face into the lads neck, licked a trail up from his collarbone to the sensitive spot beneath his jaw, biting on his lobe as he whispered into his ear.

"Horny little fucker."

Ste laughed in return, becoming breathless as the sensation of the Irishman's teeth against his ear and his neck and it became all to real, his body grinding down against him now, instinctively, wanting, _needing, _to be closer to him, as close as he could be, and it was fucking electrifying and coursing through him and it was more than he had ever felt before, more than he had even dreamt of feeling before. He wanted this man, wanted him so fucking much and the feeling was clearly mutual, given the hard length he could feel against his own groin.

Ste leant back and felt the Irishman lean forward into him, reluctant to let him go, and Ste reached behind him for the bottle of whiskey and took a long gulp. Brendan watched him drink it down, watched the bob up and down of his adams apple and the way his lips met the neck of the bottle, his long fingers gripping onto the bottle and _jesus-fucking-christ _he wanted to know how that tight grip would feel against his cock.

"Cheeky shit," Brendan scolded playfully at the audacity of the lad as he necked his own whiskey before him. He reached out, grabbed the bottle from Steven's firm grip and stood at the same time, laughing into Steven's neck as he gripped him tight against his waist to support him. Instinctively Steven wrapped his legs around him, linked his ankles behind his back and pulled down on Brendan's neck with his hand.

The alcohol made them unsteady and Brendan's legs felt weak beneath him, his knees buckling as he tried to stand and he wasn't entirely sure that it was just the whiskey doing that to him. The weight of Steven around him was too much right now and he fell to the floor, Steven's back hitting the sand first, letting out a cry which turned into a laugh, too drunk to feel the pain, and then Brendan was on top of him. They were both laughing, Brendan taking a gulp of his own whiskey and it was Ste looking up at him now in awe, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He licked his lips, saw Brendan's eyes dart on to him as he did it, bottle of whiskey still against his mouth, and Ste bit down seductively on his bottom lip. Brendan stopped in his tracks, drawn in by him, by what this lad was doing to him. He leant forwards, onto his elbows, and tipped the whiskey into the boys mouth from his own.

It was fucking hot, and Ste gulped down some of it, but a trickle escaped down his cheek, running onto his neck, Brendan catching it with his tongue before it ran into the sand.

_Not wasting whiskey, _he thought to himself.

He traced the path of the stray alcohol, back up Steven's neck, along his cheek, up to the lads mouth. Without a seconds thought he dipped his tongue in between Steven's inviting lips, could taste the searing heat and the whiskey and it was fucking heady and thick with need and it shot straight through him, straight to his dick like he had no control over anything any more.

He closed his lips against Steven's, felt the lad responding against him, parting his lips and letting him inside, pushing with his own tongue and they were there now, wet heat of each others mouths as their tongues slid together as one, and it was fucking indescribable, the alcohol heightening both their senses as they groaned into each others mouths, bodies grinding together in the sand, hands grasping at each others neck and back and clawing away, needing to be closer, needing more from each other than either of them could give right now.

A wave crashed heavily behind them and the water came further in, washing over their feet as they lay intertwined in the sand, almost reaching their knees and it made them pull apart, Ste laughing at the sensation. He expected to look up and see Brendan smiling back at him, but instead he was met with a look of pure fear in the Irishman's eyes. Something had flipped within Brendan, as if the touch of nature had brought him back down to the ground, back into the real world, and he pulled away, sat up on his knees and untangled himself from the body beneath him.

Ste watched him, saw how his expression had changed. He felt suddenly sober, sober enough to appreciate what had just happened and that the Irishman was looking down on him now with disgust, wiping his lips as if he has just tasted the worst dish in the world, and he felt suddenly cold, a strange kind of fear ripping through the passion he had coursing through his veins a moment earlier. He panicked, his eyes darting over the Irishman's face, trying to gauge his reaction, trying to understand why he had just literally turned hot to cold on a complete whim.

"Did ye just kiss me?" he spat out at him, voice laced with distaste and to Ste it almost felt as if a shadow had just cast over his face, as if a light had just turned out but he could understand it – he got it – the panic, the confusion that comes with feeling _this way _about another man. He knew why the Irishman reacted like he did, but he couldn't stop him.

He stood up and started to walk away, and Ste scrambled up too, following him and grabbing at his arm as he tried to retreat.

"It's ok," Ste tried to comfort the man, but it was too late. He was too far gone.

Brendan couldn't control it, couldn't hold down the rage that was boiling up inside of him, taking over control of his body, the way that it always had done. As it always did with Macca and with Vincent.

He lashed out, turning towards the boy and squaring him right in the face. One punch. That was all it took to floor him, and he looked down on the lad as he leant up on his elbows and looked up at Brendan, expression tainted with confusion and resentment.

Not fear.

Brendan noticed that, and it stopped him. Stopped him laying in again.

The boy wasn't scared of him.

All went silent for what seemed like a lifetime, the pair of them assessing each other; Brendan stood above him with his fist clenched, Steven laying down on the ground below him, blood rushing down his face from the gash above his eye. The gash Brendan's fist produced when it had smacked into him.

Brendan brought himself back, found the rage disappearing and replaced with intrigue about the boy below, and then instant regret at what he had done.

"Shit," he cursed to himself, "Shit, I'm sorry," he whispered down to the boy, holding out a hand to help the boy up, "I...I don't know...I'm sorry, Steven."

Ste sneered at his hand, frowned up at the Irishman and picked himself up, didn't need his help, wasn't helpless anymore. He had been pushed down enough times to know how to pick himself back up again.

He shook his head as he stood, looking into the Irishman's eyes with contempt. He snapped. He shoved him hard in the chest, both hands connecting with his shoulders and Brendan stepped backwards with the force of it.

"You do NOT touch me."

Steven was shouting at him, tone laced with bitterness, another shove connecting with his shoulders with each breath he took.

"You do NOT hit me." Shove. "No-one EVER hits me." Shove. "Not any more." Shove. "Not you!" Shove. "Not _him_!" Shove. "Not ANYONE!" Shove.

Brendan was backed up against the wall now at the back of the beach, looking back at the lad with a mixture of emotions – confusion, lust, concern, surprise. Understanding.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" Steven shouted into his face, before he turned and walked away, seething with rage.

Brendan was left stood there, rendered speechless. No-one ever fought back like that. Ever.

There was something about this lad. Something different.

He wouldn't stop until he found out exactly what.

_**A/N: I know the end of this chapter might make it seem this way, but I just wanted to say the story won't be going down the domestic abuse route – it was just the way Brendan reacted to what happened in this scene but I don't want you to be put off the rest of the story by thinking he's going to start beating Ste up. I won't let that happen in this story. I think we've all been through enough of that on HO, and I don't think I could do that justice anyway.**_

_**That aside, reviews are very much appreciated as always :) xxx**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Sorry the update took longer than promised. I blame Shadows!**_

_**I hope I didn't scare anyone off with violent!Brendan, he just had an attack of the rage/fear as he comes to terms with his sexuality. I think he'll manage to work through it though, for Steven ;) Starting now...**_

_**Thanks again for all your reviews! I love your kind words, they always totally blow me away, and I appreciate the end of the last chapter may have seemed a bit harsh. As much as I want them to be happy together, I'm conscious there should be a bit of angst in true Stendan style. And I wanted to show Ste fighting back with his feistiness! But I do promise that is the end of Brendan and his fists! With Steven at least ;)**_

_**As always, let me know what you think :)**_

He couldn't even start to process what was going through his head. Didn't even know if there were words in the English language which could explain what he thought of himself right now. The emotions that were flashing through his mind.

His thoughts raced as he lay in bed. It was still dark outside, faint streaks of light coming through the curtains letting him know that dawn was threatening to rise soon, but he knew in Cyprus that meant it was only nearing 5am. Still closer to the time he should be dropping off to sleep not contemplating waking up.

There was no chance of that, though. No chance of sleep tonight.

He resigned himself to it, got out of bed quietly and padded over to the balcony. Outside he found his trusty whiskey glass and bottle, almost all gone save for an inch or so at the bottom which he poured into the glass now, thought _to hell with it_ and sipped at the amber nectar.

He slumped down into the seat on the balcony, watching over the pool area before him as the sunrise threatened its approach. He persuaded himself that he wasn't drinking first thing in the morning, more like last thing at night, because he was up before the sun was fully risen. He knew though that even if it was a dawn-break tipple it wouldn't be the first time. Alcohol had often been the one thing he always knew he could turn to when he needed it.

And fuck did he need it right now.

He looked down to his fist - red, saw, marks against his knuckles where they had hit the lad. Punched him clean in the face for no good reason. No reason that Steven would ever understand anyway. He could hardly understand it himself.

He was alone now, alone with his own thoughts and he didn't have to lie to himself here. He didn't want to lie to himself right now, he just wanted to feel.

It pained him, but he let his mind reflect back to those few minutes at the beach. His hand reached up to his lips. He could still taste him there. Could still feel the softness of his skin against his tongue, the heady mix of sweat and aftershave as he had licked up his neck, felt the vibration of the lads voice under his tongue as he had groaned with satisfaction. Satisfaction at the way Brendan was touching him, holding him, tasting him.

The kiss. Fucking hell, the kiss. Brendan wasn't sure he had ever experienced pleasure quite like that before. It scared him, how helpless he was in the lads presence. How he had been so resolute in the seconds before he had seen him on the beach last night, so determined not to give in to the temptation of the boy, and then minutes later he was devouring him completely, as if he'd been cast under his spell.

He winced then as the memory of his outburst hit him. He had been a bad man in the past – was still a bad man now. But after Macca, and Vincent, he had sworn to himself he would never lash out like that again.

He used to beat them. When they wanted too much; when they went too far; when they tried to initiate it; when they told him they loved him; when they tried to take the power back. He hit them. To keep them quiet – to keep them in line. He didn't care for them, either of them. He never had. They had been convenient, necessary fucks to get it out of his system so he could carry on with his _normal _life. Hurting them hadn't even registered on his radar.

But last night was different. Steven was different.

He hadn't lashed out at Steven for the same reasons he used to lash out at Macca or Vincent. That had been about control. This – _this - _he had no fucking control over it at all. He had panicked last night, felt himself falling in way too deep, in too far over his head, no control over himself and his body's reaction, the way it came apart for the lad and he just couldn't help it. He was scared of the effect the boy was having over him already.

He had had to pull away, to run away, to get away from him before he got himself in even further. The scene on the beach – the way the boy had seduced him, the romanticism of it – it was all too much. Men like Brendan Brady didn't let boys like Steven get under their skin like that. Fear had gripped him, forced him to pull away and he had tried, really tried, grabbed desperately at anything resembling denial as had he looked down at the lad with disgust, telling him he was nothing, making sure he knew this wasn't what Brendan Brady did. It pained him to do it, when all along his body was aching for more, his lips begging to meet Stevens just one more time, his chest pounding out of desire for the boy.

He pulled himself away. Despite every fibre of his being urging him to stay, he walked away.

Then Steven had been so insistent. He had followed him, dragging him back, talking about how he _understood_, how it was _ok_, how he _got it_. But how could he ever really understand? How could he ever really know what it was that stopped him giving in to that life he so desperately wanted to live?

How could he know about his father? About what Seamus had done to him, was _still_ doing to him, even though he hadn't seen or spoken to him in years. He still heard his voice in the back of his head, calling him _Brenda_, telling him he wasn't a _real_ man, calling him _queer. _It had pulled the red mist down over Brendan's eyes – the knowledge that he could never be truly happy. Not after what he had been through.

For those blissful few minutes on the beach, he had felt happy. And then realisation had come crashing down on him, that he couldn't have that, couldn't be that way, not properly, not even though he wanted it then more than ever before.

It had angered him, that he had to give it all up. That he couldn't let himself be happy, be who he was. And the boy was chasing him, pulling him back and letting him think that it all was possible, and he had to stop him, had to stop the words that were coming from his mouth, the lies he was feeding him, lies he wanted to believe so badly. But it would _never _be ok – nothing would _ever _be ok for him again.

So he lashed out.

He did the only thing he knew how to do to shut the lad up, stop his promises of a life Brendan could never hope to live.

And it was thinking about that now, as the dawn broke on his balcony and the last drop of whiskey drained from his glass, and as the cool trickle of a single tear fell from his eye, it was now that he realised what he had done.

Steven's face as he looked up at him from the ground. He was shocked, completely taken aback by Brendan's outburst. And it had shocked Brendan, too. Shocked him that the lad wasn't scared of him, that there was not a hint of fear in his eyes. Granted, he couldn't know who Brendan was, what his reputation was, but regardless he had always had a hold over anybody he met, leaving them with no doubt as to his intentions or potential to harm. But the lad hadn't seen that. Or worse, he had seen that and ignored it – fought back regardless, standing up for himself no matter the consequences, no matter how reckless that was.

A part of him worried for the lad – that he must have taken knocks in his life to have the courage to stand up for himself now. He had shouted at him, told him that nobody would hurt him again. The memory of Steven in that moment flashed before him – _Not him, not anyone, _he had said. Who was it that had hurt Steven before? Made him fearless in the face of Brendan's thuggery, given him the courage to fight back like that. Whoever it was, Brendan had the sudden urge to find them and to hurt them back.

He cursed himself for being one of the people Steven now had to stand up to, had to protect himself against. Maybe he should leave him be – maybe he would be better off without him.

He almost laughed to himself at the thought. There was no way he could keep away from him now. Not after the way he had kissed him last night. Despite all else that happened, despite the way it had ended, it couldn't change that fact – that kiss had still happened. And he was damned if that was going to be the last time he felt those sweet lips against his own.

He made another promise to himself there and then, on that balcony, looking over the hotel as it started to come to life for the day. He needed to scratch this itch; quench this thirst for the boy. He needed to let go of this rage, of Seamus' words in his ear whenever he was with another man. He needed to let it all go and let himself experience it all. He needed to have the boy.

When the holiday was over, he would move on. He would go back to living his little lie.

But he couldn't spend the next 10 days avoiding him, glancing across the pool at him, lusting over his toned physique and calling out his name in his sleep. He couldn't do that. He needed to find the boy, today, and set things straight.

He needed to apologise, to make it up to Steven, he knew. But he had a feeling it wouldn't take too much to get the lad back where he wanted him again.

With that thought occupying his mind, he returned to bed and found himself drifting off to sleep. Tomorrow was a new day.

-s-

"Morning."

Ste grunted in response.

Anne sounded a hell of a lot brighter than Ste felt as he sauntered out of his bedroom, but he suspected her tone would change none too soon when she clocked the gash on his eyebrow.

"Aaah, you feeling rough, you dirty stop out," she continued, still oblivious, "Who's fault was it this ti – shit, Ste what happened?"

There it was.

"Nothing, alright," he replied, almost a whisper, holding his arms across his chest and facing the ground as he made his way to the sofa.

Anne followed him round, all concerned and intrigued, reaching her hand up to inspect his battle scar.

"Who did this?" she asked, full of concern.

"No-one, alright," he snapped back, "It's nothin'."

She paused for a second, before pulling him into her arms, embracing him and trying to soothe away the pain.

"Come on Ste, it doesn't look like nothing. Tell me who did this to you."

He sniffled into her, could sense his tears were threatening to fall.

"I can't," he whispered between sobs.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I just can't, Anne."

She held him close, let the boy work through his emotions by himself as she sensed he needed to. She would find out the full story once he had had time to process it.

After a few minutes she got up and made him breakfast, along with a cup of sweet tea, leaving him on the sofa with his thoughts.

"Come and eat something," she called out to him when it was ready.

He got up reluctantly and sat at the breakfast bar, pushing the food around his plate and eating the bare minimum he could get away with before Anne started forcing it down him. He really wasn't feeling hungry right now.

"Was it Charlie?" she asked out of the blue.

"No," Ste replied immediately, "Why would Charlie hit me?"

"I don't know! Who was it then? Pedro? He's got a temper on him."

"It wasn't any of them," Ste admitted quietly.

"Was it one of the other reps?"

"No, Anne."

"Was it one of the guys from the bar?"

"No."

"Well who was it then? And why?" She was getting frustrated now.

Ste was silent in response.

"Ste, you know you can trust me, right?"

"Course I know that," Ste replied without hesitation.

"Well, you can tell me. I can see whatever it is is eating you up inside," Anne pushed, could see his resolve weakening, "Problem shared, and all that?"

Ste sighed. He could tell her, he knew that. But he wasn't sure he wanted to admit how things had escalated so quickly.

"It was the Irish guy," Ste admitted quietly after a few moments, "With the moustache."

"Brendan?"

"I don't even know his first name," Ste admitted, adding what he did know, "Mr Brady."

"Yeah, Brendan Brady," Anne confirmed, "Why would he hit you? It doesn't make sense."

Ste flinched then. Something she had just said had sent a wave of panic through him. Brendan Brady. _The _Brendan Brady. It couldn't be him.

Ste had heard that name frequently back where he lived in England. He was someone you didn't mess with – the kind of guy whose reputation preceded him, the kind of guy you would hear people whispering about in pub corners. He had never met the guy, never seen him, but like most of the people on his estate he knew the name. Ste had been involved with some dodgy deals in his time – he had contacts in circles he wished he had never been involved in – but Brendan Brady was a different level.

It must be a pure coincidence. There was no way the Brendan Brady he had heard of, the one most of the North West was more than a little scared of, had been the same guy that had stuck his tongue down his throat so convincingly the night before. No way.

"Why would he hit you, Ste?" Anne asked again. She wasn't giving in.

"I might of kissed 'im," Ste admitted gingerly.

"What?" said Anne, more than a little shocked.

"He kissed me first!" Ste insisted by way of explanation, "He nearly did it the other night when he was here, too, an' then last night I was drunk an' he was drunk an' we bumped into each other on the beach, an' we ended up on the floor and he kissed me -"

"He's a married man, Ste! Married with a _wife_!" Anne scolded.

"I know! I know," Ste conceded, "It just 'appened."

"And why did he hit you?"

"He just freaked out, pulled away an' ran off," Ste explained, felt as if he was explaining it to himself at the same time because he sure as hell hadn't got his head around it yet, "I tried to go after 'im and he just turned an' he hit me. And I pushed 'im back, told 'im no-one touched me like that, not after...y'know..."

"Yeah, I know," Anne replied calmly.

"An' then I just stormed off an' came back here, left him on the beach."

"Did he follow you?" she asked.

"No, that was all I saw of him."

Anne took pity on him. She sure as hell didn't agree it all - with him making the moves on a married man. Much less a married man who was meant to be one of their customers; and whose wife had accused _her _of sleeping with that same man just days earlier. But she knew now wasn't the time to lay into Ste about it. Not when he was clearly as confused by the whole thing as she was.

"I don't know if I can go in today," Ste admitted, clearly out of fear, "Don't think I can face him, y'know?"

Anne sighed. There was no way she was going to let him hide away because of this.

"You're coming in, Ste, no excuses. You can't avoid him for the rest of his holiday. The sooner you face him, the easier it will be, I promise."

"Do I have to?" he whined.

"Yes!" she replied forcefully, a smile forming over her lips, "Grow a pair, Hay!"

"Oh, shut up, Minniver," he joked back, feeling a little relief at having told Anne about it all, "You'll stay with me, though, yeah?"

"Course I will, Ste," she reassured him, "And once we've done those room changes we can have a few hours out by the pool, yeah?"

"Sounds good," Ste replied.

He wasn't looking forward to the day ahead – was sure it would involve an awkward moment with the Irish man at some point or another – but he wasn't going to let himself hide away from it all. He knew he had to face up to it, and with Anne by his side, he knew he could do it.

-s-

It turned out to be a long day, the last thing either of them needed. A couple of the new arrivals came to complain about the noise from the street outside their room, and Ste was left to deal with sorting out a new room for them whilst Anne took bookings for the excursions. Lunch came and went with neither of them able to stop for more than a bite of a sandwich, and by 5pm they were both ready to call it a day.

"Fancy going out to catch the last of the sun?" Anne suggested, desperate to get out of the cramped, dark office they had been locked in all day.

"Damn right," Ste replied in a heartbeat as he closed down his laptop.

They left a few moments later and took up residence on the first available sun loungers. The pool area was quietening down for the day, parents packing up their bags and taking the kids back to their rooms to get ready for their evening.

This was Ste's favourite time around the pool. Work done for the day, no kids screaming and jumping into the pool, searing heat of the sun settling down and warming through his skin, slight breeze passing over from the sea and creating the perfect temperature to sit and top up his tan, adding to the already golden brown sun kissed look he wore so well.

Ste whipped off his polo top as he started to feel the sweat forming along his chest. Anne tutted as he did so and threw the sun lotion his way, her expression one of motherly concern, reluctant to let him sit under the sun unprotected. He sighed and started working a small dollop of suncream over his chest and arms.

As he lay back down he heard it, the unmistakeable Northern Irish accent of Eileen's buzzing past him. He opened his eyes instinctively, wouldn't admit it to himself but it was out of hope that he would be with her.

He was.

His breath hitched in his throat despite himself as their eyes locked together, Brendan glancing away almost instantly. Ste hoped it was shame making him fix his eyes to the ground.

"Oh, hi, Ste love," Eileen smiled at him, acting like his best friend just because they had spent the day on the trip together yesterday, "Working hard, I see."

Ste forced a smile. He had, actually, but trust that they should saunter in just as he was allowing himself a bit of sunshine at the end of a long day.

He couldn't bring himself to be angry at her, though. He had snogged the face off her husband last night, after all.

A wave of guilt passed over him that he wasn't expecting. He hadn't thought much of Eileen throughout the whole thing, she had been little more than a blip on his radar. He couldn't work out if he felt sorry for her or jealous _of_ her. Either way, he didn't feel comfortable with the way she was chatting away to him and taking up residence on the sun lounger next to him as her kids went off to play in the pool.

"Ach, look at them," she said fondly as she watched her boys playing together, "You wouldn't think they'd been playin' on the beach all day, would ye? Bless 'em, they never tire these boys, do they?"

She looked up to her husband for confirmation, but he was too busy inspecting the concrete paving slabs, clearly something playing on his mind and Ste could take a pretty good guess what that was.

"Oi, Brendan," she called out to him, pulling him from his daze.

"Huh?" he questioned back at her.

"Just saying these boys, so full of energy aren't they?" Eileen repeated.

"Oh, yeah," he responded, grimacing with confusion at what the point of that conversation could be.

"Take a seat, Brendan, we'll let them have a few more minutes in the pool," Eileen encouraged.

Brendan hesitated, glancing over at Ste to gauge his reaction. He wasn't looking his way, in fact seemed to be avoiding his presence completely, and it was only as he allowed himself to look at the lad now that he saw the cut to his eyebrow, hidden slightly by his shades but he had known it was there, guilt coiling in his stomach, regret coursing through him. God how he wished he could turn back the clock, take them both back to that indescribable moment they had shared. The way he had felt against his lips, how supple and willing his body had felt beneath him.

He wanted him back there, like he had never wanted anything so badly before in his life.

"Isn't that right Brendan?"

Eileen's voice was there again, snapping him out of the daze he was only half aware of having dropped into.

"What?" he snapped back.

"Just tellin' Ste about how all the boys do at home is sit and play their video games, but we just can't rein them in over here, can we?" Eileen said, her voice soft and easygoing.

"I doubt Steven has any interest in that, really, Eileen," Brendan replied, sure he saw a slight flicker of something pass over the lads face as he said his name.

"Oh, aye," Eileen replied, sitting back and basking in the last few rays of sunshine, shades now covering her face, "Take a seat, Brendan, we'll give them half an hour."

Brendan sighed as he reluctantly sat down on the sun lounger beside Eileen. He adjusted it so the lounger lay flat, and he lay back and tried to sleep away the awkward tension he could feel coiling in his gut. Steven's lounger was in the same position, and even though Eileen was between them she was sitting upright, gifting Brendan with a direct eyeline over to Ste.

He watched him from behind his shades, basking in the way the sunlight reflected off his barely-there abs, the way his golden brown skin glistened with the thin layer of sun cream and sweat that covered it, the way his tongue darted out from between those perfect lips which he bit down on every so often with what looked a lot like nerves and apprehension.

As if he could sense Brendan's watchful eye, Ste flinched and turned to look at the Irishman, couldn't see the eyes behind Ste's shades but he was sure they wouldn't be filled with the same lust and passion that they had poured over him last night. He wished they would be, but he knew he had fucked up and would need more than just his presence to bring the boy back to him.

Brendan looked away, resting his head back and letting his mind race with it all, with what he could do to find favour with Steven again. After a short while Eileen rose, nudging him in his side and telling him to get ready to go back to the room whilst she went to get the boys out of the pool.

As she walked away Ste glanced over at him again whilst sitting up, and he felt uncomfortable now he had lost the barrier of Eileen.

Anne was there to help him though, to jump in before Ste said something he might regret.

"You ever gonna let her know, Brendan?" she asked, watching as the frenzied realisation started to form on Brendan's face.

"Know what, Anne?" he asked nervously.

"You know what I mean, Brendan," Anne replied, fearless, "Ste told me everything."

Brendan swallowed down, looked at Ste who sat between them sheepishly, avoiding eye contact with either of them, let Anne fight this battle for him because he didn't trust himself to stand his ground or keep his composure.

"I don't know what you mean," Brendan lied, the dip in his voice betraying the panic and he knew Anne had seen it.

"Don't bother lying," Anne bit back, "Look at what you did to his face."

"I'm sorry, ok, please, just," Brendan swallowed to stop his voice faltering again, "Please don't tell her."

"She deserves to know, Brendan," Anne urged, her tone turning sympathetic as she watched Brendan battling this demon inside him, "You can't hide this from her forever."

"I know, I know," he conceded, glancing across at Steven before dropping his expression to the floor, "I just can't tell her, I -"

"Can't tell me what?"

The three of them turned to see Eileen had returned, face full of smiles, completely oblivious to the content of the conversation that had just been taking place between the three of them.

"Erm, just about a drink tonight," Anne replied after a brief moment of panic, her white lies saving Brendan from a life-changing admission.

"Huh?" Eileen replied, shooting Anne a look of pure ice, no doubt wondering why the hell Brendan would be talking about going for a drink with this girl.

"Not with me," Anne retorted quickly, "Just Ste – lads night," she added, wincing immediately as she realised what she had said, dropping her friend in it and having him face the possibility of a night with the man who had punched him the night before. She tried to convey an apology through her eyes as Ste stared back at her now.

"Don't worry, Eileen," Ste said sardonically as he looked from Anne to Eileen, "I can't anyway, I've got the bar crawl tonight."

Brendan saw an opportunity in Ste's words and decided to exploit it.

"I could come along to the bar crawl, though," he suggested cagily, eyeing Steven with wide eyes, "Keep you company?"

Ste was completely taken back, didn't know why the hell the Irishman wanted to spend any time with him after the way things had ended the night before. He didn't know if he felt completely safe in his company any more – didn't know why his stomach was turning in knots at the thought of spending the evening with him, but he told himself it was apprehension, that it wasn't a good idea and he should turn him away, despite that sensation inside which wanted him there more than anything.

"I – I don't know," Ste let out, looking over to Brendan, "You shouldn't."

Brendan nodded slightly in begrudged acceptance as he cast his eyes down to the ground, trying to hide his disappointment from the boy but knew there was no way he could keep that look off his face.

"Ach, go on Ste," Eileen urged, "You should go, Brendan, you guys will have a laugh together I'm sure."

The tension was palpable, Eileen the only one oblivious to it; Brendan and Ste avoiding each others glance, neither of them knowing where they stood with the other, both of them wanting the same thing but it was all too soon, the sour taste of last night still on Ste's tongue and he felt physically torn.

"What time, Ste?" Eileen asked, forcing the situation they both wanted to avoid.

"Erm, we leave Reception about 9," he answered her.

"Great, well we can go for an early meal and Brendan can meet you there, can't you Bren?"

Brendan glanced at Steven now, couldn't suppress the scant smile that was starting to form in the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah, mate," Brendan said as he tried to look Steven in the eye, the younger man avoiding his gaze as best he could, "I'll see you there."

"Yeah, whatever," Ste replied quietly, felt pressured into it with Eileen there, but couldn't deny something rushed through him at the thought of it.

"Great, we best get going then," Eileen smiled, "See you later, Ste."

"Yeah, bye."

"Bye," Anne added as they turned to leave, hint of sarcasm in the way Eileen had blanked her.

Ste watched him walk away, couldn't stop his eyes as they travelled down the length of his back, settling on his arse. His breath hitched as he drank in the man's perfection.

"I'm so sorry, Ste," Anne said as soon as they were out of earshot, "I didn't think, I -"

"It's fine, Anne," he reassured her genuinely, "It'll be fine."

She smiled back at him, still uncertain after her slip up, "Let's go back, yeah."

"Yeah."

-s-

Ste didn't know what it was that was making him take extra time to get ready. Well, that was a lie. He did know what it was. He knew exactly what it was. He just wasn't ready to admit it to himself yet.

Brendan was coming. Brendan Brady. The guy who could possibly be one of the most dangerous men in the North West of England; who gave him the most amazing, sensual, and passionate ten minutes of his life on the beach last night; and who had proceeded to hit him square across the face right afterwards. It was dangerous. Brendan was dangerous. But there was something swimming through his insides, something that he felt everytime the Irishman's name was mentioned, everytime his face flashed before his eyes, and whatever it was, it made him want more of the man. He was fast developing an insatiable appetite for him.

As much as he wouldn't admit it to himself right now, he couldn't wait to see Brendan later on.

He would make him work for it, make him earn his forgiveness, see how far he was willing to go to get back in favour with him, but he knew he would give in eventually. If Brendan fought hard enough, he wouldn't be able to resist.

He spent a good 40 minutes choosing his outfit for the evening. The bar crawl was a messy night – it was the only excursion designed specifically for the groups of under-25's that holidayed at the resort, and it was a night of debauchery and drunkenness which Ste hated being in charge of. He knew it always ended badly with some event or another – usually a fight or an indecent assault of some sort. A bar crawl which ended without an arrest was a success, and by recent standards the nights had not been successful for a while.

He usually dreaded them, had long since left that kind of hedonistic lifestyle behind him, but tonight was different. Tonight he would still have the drunken teens, the fighting blokes, the sex-crazed singletons and more Jagerbombs than you could shake a stick at – but he would have Brendan there too.

After four outfit changes he settled on his indigo denim jeans, slim fit so that they clung sexily to his arse and showed off his lean legs. He had good legs; he knew that. He opted for a crisp white polo t-shirt, casual enough for the informality of the night ahead but different enough from his usual attire that he hoped it would catch Brendan's attention.

He brushed his teeth for a little longer than he did most mornings, and spent an extra five minutes styling his quiff than he usually would.

He looked good. He knew he looked good, especially with that sun-kissed golden colour to his skin that had built up over the summer. He was ready for Brendan – ready to take his breath away. Again.

Anne wolf whistled as he sauntered out of his room and headed for the door.

"Shut it, you," he scolded her playfully, "See you later."

Anne smiled back, but her expression turned serious quickly, "Just be careful, yeah."

"Don't worry," Ste reassured her, "I won't let him hurt me again."

She blew him an air kiss which he pretended to catch with his left hand and stuff in his pocket, watching her laugh cheesily at him as he closed the door behind him.

He waited in the Reception area for the rabble of party-goers, ticking them off his list as they arrived one group at a time, his eyes constantly searching for the moustachioed Irishman to turn up. He was about to give up, to leave the hotel ten minutes later than they should have done for the bar crawl after waiting around for him, until he saw him, Eileen and the boys rush through the hotel entrance.

He looked so effortlessly suave - classic black jeans and black shirt, white lining of his collar and cuffs where he had rolled them up, and a red trim down the length of the shirt buttons. He was looking over at Ste, reflecting back the look of wanting in his eyes, swallowing down hard as he realised the force of the mutual appreciation they were sharing.

Ste nodded at him before addressing the rabble and bringing about rapturous applause and a chorus of booming chants from one group of lads as he announced they were heading to their first bar.

The start of the night went by without a hitch, and when they were three bars in, the drinking games flowing as the volume increased and the inhibitions ebbed away, Brendan decided it was time he made his move. He'd been on the whiskey, had downed a couple but he wasn't interested in keeping up with the others on the bar crawl. His attention was focused on one thing and one thing only – Steven. He hadn't been drinking, Brendan had noticed that. He was impressed with the amount of energy the lad had without any form of stimulant, and the devil inside him wondered how long it would take for him to use up that energy completely. He was sure he could have the best night of his life trying to wear the boy out.

He knew Steven was avoiding him – had hardly spoken to him all night, left him standing in the corner of each bar all alone whilst he entertained the drinkers, cracking jokes with the lads and flirting with the girls as they flung themselves at him. Brendan couldn't deny the pang of jealousy in the pit of his stomach as he watched on.

He liked seeing Steven like this. He was good at this, seemed effortless in the way he kept everyone entertained, everything coming so naturally to him; his endless chatter. But Brendan felt as if he knew more about Steven than the boy would ever let on to these nobody's. He'd seen something - seen the sadness behind his eyes last night at the memories of pain he had endured in his life - and he knew this easygoing demeanour was just one side to Steven; just one of his many layers. He knew there was more to him, and he couldn't explain his unwavering need to know each and every part to him as intimately as possible.

He was getting frustrated now, knew the lad was teasing him, glancing across and holding his gaze every so often; always the first to look away as if he wasn't ready to hand himself over to Brendan like Brendan was to him. He decided this was it - he needed to get the lad alone and have this out with him, his steely resolve was weakened with this torture and he couldn't stand it any longer.

Steven went to walk past him, trying to get from the bar to the dancefloor, brushing his arm against the Irishman deliberately as he walked past him without catching his gaze. He was being pulled onto the dancefloor by one of the girls that had already tried to dance around him like a pole at the last bar, and Brendan couldn't stand it any more. He couldn't stand there and watch that again, watch some whore grinding over his boy.

He grabbed his wrist as he walked away from him, jerked him back as Steven snapped out of the girls grasp, Brendan wondering if he had really needed to pull him so hard as he lead him into the recess at the side of the bar. He felt a door handle behind him, tried it desperately and it opened. He smiled as he walked backwards, pulling Steven in with him and shutting the door behind him.

It was dark in there, some kind of storage cupboard judging by the stink of cleaning chemicals around them. The lights from the DJ booth filtered through the small gap above the door and the pounding bass surrounded them - but it was quieter, stiller than it was outside; and Brendan felt as if all he could hear right now was the beating of his heart inside his chest as it's pace increased.

He didn't know where to start. They stood and stared each other down for a painful moment before Brendan spoke, didn't know if he was saying the right thing but desperate to do anything to cut the tension in the room and bring the boy back to him.

"Ye wanna get me back?" Brendan asked, voice low and unsure of himself. He had honestly never offered himself up to somebody like this before.

"You what?" Ste replied, tone laced with confusion before his expression turned to anger.

"I hit ye," Brendan reasoned, "Ye wanna get me back? Settle the score?"

Ste laughed in the face of his audacity.

"You 'avin a laugh," he replied, and it was a genuine question, "No thanks, I'm not in the business of trading punches, much less with people like you."

Brendan quirked his head up at that comeback.

"People like me?" he asked, genuine regret in his tone, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know," Ste replied quietly, not willing to rise to his bait.

Brendan looked back at the boy now - really looked at him - and saw no fear in his eyes, just bitterness emanating from every pore.

"You know who I am?" Brendan asked cautiously.

And there it was for Ste. Confirmation. Confirmation that the man he couldn't get out of his thoughts; the one who had given him the most incredible ten minutes of tongue action on the beach the night before; the one who was stood before him now and opening himself up to him – he was Brendan Brady. _The _Brendan Brady. The one everyone had heard of – who every knew was bad news. You didn't cross Brendan Brady. Not if you valued your life. Or your fingers for that matter.

"I live in Chester when I'm not here," Ste offered by way of explanation, having noticed Brendan's questioning glare, "Course I know who you are."

Brendan physically deflated at the admission, and it wasn't what Ste expected. For someone with Brendan's reputation, he assumed being notorious was an advantage, and he had been half reluctant to admit to knowing who he was through fear of fanning his probably already over inflated ego.

But that wasn't what had happened. Brendan had retreated away from him. He had moved backwards and sat, perched rather, on the edge of a table that stood in the room, looking down at the floor as he wrung his hands together.

Several minutes passed, and Ste could feel himself relaxing in Brendan's presence. Inexplicably. He resisted the urge to ask him questions, to find out why he was here, what happened last night. He hadn't enjoyed getting the split eyebrow but fucking hell, he couldn't deny he had enjoyed what preceded it.

"Ye weren't scared of me," Brendan let out quietly, almost a whisper, and Ste wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question. "When I lashed out at ye, ye weren't scared of me, were ye?"

Ste considered his response.

"No," he replied truthfully. He was nothing if not honest at all times. He didn't know how to be anything else.

"Even though ye knew who I was? What I've...What they say I've done?" Brendan asked, careful not to admit to too much.

"I didn't know then. I didn't even know your name last night," Ste confessed, causing Brendan to look up at him with intrigue. He hadn't thought about it before, but he hadn't told Steven his first name. Anne must have told him.

"And if you had known?" Brendan asked.

"I'm still not scared of you, Brendan."

The sound of his name against the boys lips - it was doing something to him. Doing something to his insides; drawing him closer to the boy. He walked towards him, closing the distance, could feel the lads heat up against his chest now as he stood mere millimetres apart from him.

"And what about now?" Brendan asked seductively, the mood shifting heatedly in the dark, cramped room.

He watched Steven gulp down, the bob of his adams apple giving away his receptiveness to Brendan's advances.

"You can't hurt me, Brendan," Ste spoke with steely determination, trying to avoid the real meaning behind Brendan's words, "You can hit me all you like, Brendan, but you can't hurt me that way. Not properly."

The mention of violence caused Brendan to drop his resolve just a little, his confidence seeming to waver slightly, overtaken somewhat by concern for the boy stood before him.

He knew those words – knew what you had to live through to understand the meaning behind such a sentence; that no amount of physical pain can ever touch you again, because the only pain you can register is hidden in the depths of your heart.

It only made him want the boy more – to know that he may be able to understand a tiny percentage of what made Brendan Brady the way he was today.

"And what if I wasn't trying to hurt ye," Brendan asked as he searched for the answers in Ste's eyes, "What if I wanted something else from ye?"

Ste caught his drift straight away, tensing up slightly at the thought of it. He hadn't wanted to be back here with Brendan – hadn't wanted to give in to him like this again so quickly, especially not after the night before.

But there was something between them; something sizzling in the air that surrounded the pair of them; something intoxicating and beguiling and it must be some kind of drug because it was making Ste weaken his resolve, making him want to break every promise he ever made to himself to stay away from people like Brendan Brady because all he wanted to do right now was run his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck and taste the inside of his mouth, have his tongue run against his own and fill him with heady excitement as he had done the night before.

Brendan stepped closer, their torsos touching now, and he could feel the stirring inside his boxers, the undeniable effect this man had on him, a reflex reaction he couldn't even control, his body letting Brendan know that he wanted this – he wanted him.

"What if I want _you_, Steven?" Brendan asked, voice low and deep and thick with his own desires that he was making no effort to control whatsoever. He wanted this.

"You don't," Ste answered back, sure that it was true, sure that it was the reason Brendan had pushed him away at the beach, because he didn't feel the same, didn't want what Ste wanted.

"I do," Brendan admitted, and it took the wind right out of Ste's sails, knocked him for six – an admission like that from a man like Brendan was the last thing he expected out of this evening.

"Yeah?" Ste asked breathily, backed up against the door now, Brendan's body touching every part of him, the flash of red and green and yellow and blue coming through the gap in the top of the door, lights filtering through from the disco outside, music blaring through, bass making the walls pound but he couldn't hear it right now. He couldn't hear the music, couldn't feel the bass because all that was pounding right now was his heart inside his chest, and all he could hear was Brendan's sharp, shallow breathing, and all he could feel was the warmth of his breath against his face, sure Brendan could feel the same from his own.

"I really fucking do, Steven," Brendan whispered, but they were close enough despite the noise outside for Ste to hear his every word.

Brendan made his final assault, pushing his groin up against Ste's so he could feel it – if he had any doubt in Brendan's words he could feel it now, feel the whole length of his desire as it pushed against his own, rock solid, hard for _him_, for Ste, because of Ste.

Ste gasped at the sensation that coursed through him and flung his head back, inviting Brendan in and he took no time in accepting, devouring his lips and teeth and tongue against Steven's neck, along his jawline and then his hands were either side of his face, pulling him level and their lips met once again.

Their tongues worked against each other hungrily, dancing together in the same way they had done the night before, that passion igniting both of them, coming alive under each others touch and it was electric. Ste moved his hands up to Brendan's neck as he continued to kiss him passionately, pulling him closer as Brendan smoothed his touch down Steven's side, grabbing furiously at his arse and pulling his thigh up, encouraging Steven to wrap himself around him, to bring their groins closer, to feel that friction he so desperately needed right in that moment.

All too soon there was a banging at the door, someone pushing from outside as Ste leant up against it.

"Ste! Ste you in there?" Came a voice outside the door.

They pulled apart and looked into each others eyes.

"Ste you need to get out here, it's kicking off!"

"Shit," Ste whispered as he pushed Brendan away, reluctantly.

"Fucking timing," Brendan muttered under his breath.

"I've got to go," Ste urged as he tried to tear himself away, but he couldn't. Their eyes were locked together, stuck in a moment that neither of them wanted to end.

"Ste, come on, I ain't kidding," came the voice behind the door with a renewed sense of urgency.

"OK!" Ste called out, leaning over to give Brendan one more deep kiss against his lips, before turning to open the door.

Brendan stood motionless in the room for a few minutes, getting his breath back from whatever it was that had just happened to him. This lad was something else, and he was ready to kill whoever it was that had caused him to pull away in that moment.

When he returned to the bar he surveyed the scene, saw two lads with bloodied faces, one still out cold on the floor and the other sat on one of the stools, eyes rolling back into his head. Steven was in the middle of them, focused now on what he had to do to resolve the situation, asking one of the barmen to call an ambulance for them and tending to one of the guy's cut eyes.

He broke away for a second as he caught Brendan's eye, and it was impossible not to think back to 24 hours before, when it had been Ste with the cut to his face; Ste on the floor after Brendan's punch; Ste who's expression had been riddled with confusion and doubt. Despite it though, despite the glaringly obvious parallel from the night before, Ste looked at him and shrugged apologetically, mouthing _I'm sorry _at Brendan, bringing out an unexpected smile on Brendan's face.

He thought about helping him, offering him his support but Steven was in control, and he had the help of the barmen. He looked calm, like he knew what he was doing, and Brendan knew he would just be getting in the way if he stayed.

He turned to leave the bar and walk the short distance back to the hotel.

He couldn't help but feel disappointed, had been so invested in that moment before they had been interrupted, but he knew that the night had gone a whole lot better than he expected.

He had renewed hope for what the rest of the holiday had in store for them, and he had a sneaking suspicion he would sleep a lot easier tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Thank you once again for all of your reviews! I love you all :)**_

_**Enjoy :)**_

**Day Seven**

Brendan couldn't help but notice how everything seemed so much easier after a good nights sleep. Last night had been a rarity – he hadn't even drunk that much on the bar crawl, and after his walk home, mind racked with memories of what had happened in that store cupboard, lips still tingling from the feel of Steven's kiss against him, he had dropped off into an easily peaceful sleep.

He woke up earlier that usual, smile on his face, morning glory that he wished he could see to, knowing full well who would be on his mind as he did so, but he could hear Eileen and the kids in the next room and managed to restrain himself.

He lay there for a few minutes, smirking with self-satisfaction at how easy it had been to get Steven where he wanted him last night. He was so pliable, so quick to forgive and so eager to be under Brendan's spell, despite himself.

The more he thought of the lad, the more he felt himself losing a grip on his mind, on his body. He tried to ignore the warning signs that whirred at the back of his mind, the one's that would have told him to hold back, to keep himself under control because he was already in further than he had ever let himself venture before.

With Macca and Vincent it had always been rough and desperate - no conversation, no longing looks across the bar where they had worked for him, nothing more than what was necessary. They had been convenient; allowed him to play his favourite game – Being The Boss – and they had fallen to his every demand. They had admired him from a distance, and he liked that, knowing they had been at his beck and call whenever he wanted them, whenever his body couldn't wait out any longer and he felt the urge to take from them. But all he ever did was take – he never gave anything in return. He took what he needed and left them hanging on a string, waiting for the next time they would get a chance to be close to him.

With Steven it felt different. He would deny it, tried desperately to push the thought to the back of his mind where it belonged, couldn't accept that what drew him towards Steven was more than just the need to fulfil some carnal desire; but deep down he knew it was different.

He wouldn't let himself think of Steven like that. Steven _had_ to be like the others. He had to see him just as someone to fuck and run when the holiday was over. He couldn't be feeling this, whatever it was. He wasn't like Steven – he wasn't _that way – _so whatever it was that this nagging feeling in the back of his mind was trying to warn him about was ridiculous. How could he get too far involved when all it was to him was sex?

It must be the sunshine, playing havoc with his thoughts. This is how things were – he was straight, married, two boys to provide for; and he just happened to sleep with men every once in a while because he enjoyed the power he could wield over them. Nothing more. It couldn't be anything more.

He wasn't a man unless he had a wife and a family. He wasn't a man unless he could provide for them, look after them, protect them from harm. Letting his mind run away with itself, distracted with images of Steven, wasn't helping with any of that. He vowed that he would get his fill of Steven but then he would move on, wouldn't get attached and would leave him high and dry once he caught that flight back home.

Steven might want more from him, but he wouldn't give it him. That wasn't what Brendan Brady did.

He flung his legs out of the bed, desperately trying to ignore the knot in his gut that was warning him; the voice in his head that told him it was all bullshit – everything he thought he could do, the control he thought he had over all this – it was all a front. He refused to give in, to listen to himself, shrugging off his niggling doubt and throwing on a t-shirt, before sauntering out to his family.

"Blimey, you're up early," Eileen smiled as he appeared from the bedroom, stretching his arms upwards as he yawned, exposing a flash of torso above the waistband of his boxers that he saw Eileen glance at admiringly.

"Slept well, for once," he smiled back, walking up to her and placing a gentle kiss on her temple.

She seemed taken aback by it, couldn't remember the last time her husband had been this content, and she was immediately suspicious. She couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't her making him this way, that she hadn't done anything to make him happy, that there must be something else causing him to smile with such wild abandon.

She gritted her teeth as soon as the thought struck her.

"So, good time last night?" she asked, grimace plastered over her face.

"Ye, actually," Brendan replied after a taking a brief moment to think back to the kiss, "It was...interesting."

Eileen pretended she hadn't noticed that flicker of excitement pass over her husbands face, sure then that her suspicions must be right.

"Anne there, was she?" Eileen quipped.

"No," Brendan replied questioningly.

"So it was just you and Ste?" she pushed him again, waiting to catch him out.

"And a whole load of binge drinking tossers, ye."

"Wouldn't have thought that would be your thing, Brendan," she noted as she glanced over at him, trying to catch the guilt in his expression, "You hate the drinkers. Why'd you enjoy it so much?"

He tipped his head sideways as he considered this sudden change in his wife's behaviour, walking out onto the balcony after her as she took a couple of glasses of orange juice out for the boys. He didn't know why she had morphed back into Queen Bitch again, thought he would at least get a couple more days of bliss in the wake of their activities the other night, but now he was getting the distinct impression everything was returning back to normal.

"Ye know me, Eileen," he replied slowly, his tone considered and careful, "Sometimes I like to watch anarchy from the sidelines. Makes me feel good about myself."

She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, looked him dead in the eye and this was it – the war was back on. This subtle, bitter war that had raged between them for years; never acknowledged outright; never alluded to in anything other than their snide comments to one another, neither of them willing to take responsibility for being the one to address the problems of their marriage.

It had been this war that had led him to give in to his demons all those years ago – so worked up after this bitterness had come to a head one night and he had wanted to hurt her, wanted to screw up the world he lived in, thought fuck it to his repression, fuck it to holding in these urges, these _feelings _he had always had but never acknowledged. He had no inclination to hurt her through another woman – the thought didn't even cross his mind – but he had gone straight to the bar and found Vincent, dragged him into the office and found him so willing, as if he had been waiting for this, as if all those months of unresolved sexual tension between the pair of them was finally coming to a head in the heat of that moment. It had been the first time Brendan had been with a man, but he had known exactly what to do – exactly what his body needed in that moment. And afterwards, when Vinnie had lain under him, spent, saw, shocked into submission, he had tried to reach out to Brendan, to initiate another kiss, and he had paid the price, a smack in the ribs and a shove to the floor, a parting comment of _you disgust me _before Brendan walked away, the tension in his shoulders fizzing into nothing as if he had been released.

Every time the feud came to a head between him and Eileen he had found solace in his repressed desires, letting his frustrations out with Vinnie and then later down the line with Macca. It wasn't often – only when Eileen had wound him up to the point where he couldn't take it anymore – and it was always bittersweet. Sex and violence. Sex and violence. And he always blamed Eileen – blamed her for pushing him to that point, blamed her for being a woman so that he couldn't touch her, wouldn't hurt a woman, had to go and find a man to take his anger away.

The irony lay in the fact that Brendan told himself he only ever did it to hurt Eileen – reached out to this side of his life whenever she made life unbearable for him with her accusations and bitterness – and yet this was the one side of himself that Eileen never knew about.

He looked across at her now, their eyes locked over the table on the balcony where their boys sat eating their breakfast, oblivious. He raised his eyebrow at her, and she raised both of hers in a bold show of resilience.

"So, what bars did you go to?" she asked, all fake smile, fake perfect wife for the benefit of the kids.

"I don't know," Brendan replied cautiously, continuing to weigh up this sudden change in his wife's demeanour.

"You don't know?" she replied, her sweetness cracking as the doubt seeped through, "How can you not know?"

"I wasn't paying attention, darlin'," he smiled back, full of menace now, "Why ye bothered anyway, Eileen?"

"You telling me to believe you went on that bar crawl when you don't even know the name of the bars -"

"What d'ye mean, _believe me, _Eileen," Brendan bit back, voice raised now in exasperation, "What else would I 'ave been doing, huh?"

She didn't reply, the air between them more than a little sour now, thick with tension that Declan picked up on, stopping the inane chatter he was having with Paddy to draw his attention to his parents and their conversation.

Eileen noticed his distraction and smiled down at him.

"Where d'ye fancy today, kids?" she smiled, all her venom dissipated now for their benefit, "Beach or pool?"

"Beach!"

"Pool!"

They both answered at the same time, Eileen sighed and looked up to Brendan.

"I say pool, kids," he settled quickly, returning back inside the room and shutting the door behind him, blocking out the tension of the world out there before muttering to himself, "Can't be fucking arsed with sand in my toes as well as all this shit."

He knew deep down that wasn't the only reason behind his decision.

-s-

Ste awoke after a much less satisfied sleep – he had been out late sorting out the mess from the bar crawl, and besides that he had found himself struggling to sleep, his mind racked with questions about what the hell was going on with him. If he could get his head around the fact that _Brendan fucking Brady _was kissing him earlier on that evening, he would still have to deal with the fact that he was fast developing an unhealthy obsession with a married man. A married man that also happened to be one of their customers – another rule he would have to break from the company handbook.

Anne was quick to remind him of all this, of course – almost leaping up from the sofa to follow him around as soon as he left his room that morning.

"So," she asked as soon as he had stepped foot out of his bedroom, "You and Brady?"

"Morning Anne," Ste replied sarcastically.

"Please tell me nothing happened," she urged, voice full of concern.

"He didn't hit me again, no," Ste reassured her with a sigh, "So you can calm yourself down."

"And?" she continued.

"And what?" Ste snapped back, flitting her away like she was some fly trying to dip into his orange juice.

"Did he kiss you?" she asked, always so straight to the point.

"What? No...no course not," Ste lied, trying his best to come off genuine but it was no good. Anne could always see straight through him.

"Ste!" she shouted as she slapped his arm, "Do not lie to me about this. Did he kiss you?"

Ste ignored her question, made himself toast and coffee before sitting at the breakfast bar, all the while Anne standing, hand on hip, waiting for an answer.

"So what if he did?" Ste muttered eventually.

"So wh – seriously? You seriously asking that question Ste?" she reprimanded, no humour to her voice, just concern.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Ste bit back. He had had far too little sleep to be getting taught a lesson in morality right now.

"I just hope you know what you're doing, Ste," she replied calmly, "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"He won't hurt me, not again," Ste replied with conviction before adding, "He's not all bad, Anne. I trust him."

He didn't quite know why, but he did. He trusted Brendan not to hurt him again - had genuinely believed his apology the previous night. He didn't necessarily trust the world Brendan lived in, but he trusted Brendan, and that was enough for now.

Anne nodded back at him – if Ste trusted Brendan, then she could trust him too. She had to.

"You could get into trouble for this, though," she warned, "He's a customer, and he's married as well."

"I know," Ste nodded, "Makes it more exciting, though, doesn't it?"

She couldn't help but mirror his cheeky smile, kind of loved that reckless side to him, the one that she had always found so endearing despite it giving him the tendency to get himself into trouble.

"Steven Hay you are wicked sometimes," she whispered as she shook her head in mock disapproval, "you know that?"

Ste looked back at her with a look of pure satisfaction. He also loved this side to himself – the one that made him feel alive.

"Just be careful, though, Ste," Anne warned, "I don't want to see you get hurt. And make sure the wife never finds out, or you'll get sacked."

"Ah, don't be so dramatic," Ste grinned at her, "It's just a bit of fun, anyway."

He wasn't anywhere close to believing those last few words as they tumbled from his mouth. He wasn't sure he could walk away from the Irishman now if he tried.

He certainly didn't have any intention of trying just yet, though.

-s-

Brendan had never been one to sunbathe. He felt ridiculous sat there in his t-shirt and swimming shorts, hiding behind his sunglasses. They had been down on the sun loungers by the pool most of the morning now, and he had hardly spoken to Eileen since the atmosphere between them had shifted that morning. She was sat on the lounger next to him, head buried in a book, only glancing up occasionally to check the boys were still playing away happily in the pool with the friends they had made, Brendan sure Declan was using his Brady charm on the girls despite his tender age.

Brendan was getting restless now, he had already read the newspaper cover to cover and he was running out of things to entertain himself with. That was, until his anxious eyes cast themselves to one particular area around the left of the big pool, around 20 metres in front of him, where a particularly tired looking Steven was busy feigning excitement over a group of petulant toddlers.

Brendan tipped his head to the side, his expression softening as he watched him, a smile forming unconsciously over his lips. He was in his uniform – the turquoise cargo shorts which hung perfectly low on his hips, snug around his tight little arse, just above the knee so Brendan could see enough of his tanned legs, surprisingly hairy and masculine. The bright yellow polo shirt Brendan could do without, but he couldn't deny how it highlighted the golden colour of his skin, making him seem even more beautiful than Brendan thought would be possible.

There was a new addition to the uniform now, which was making Brendan smile. It was a rather tall, poorly designed triangular hat – made out of sugar paper by the looks of it, and covered in pictures of what looked suspiciously like Christmas trees, for no explicable reason. Brendan quickly surmised that Steven had been left in charge of the toddlers play group – around 7 of them were all there in matching t-shirts, looking up at Ste expectantly, pointing at him and laughing as he pranced around in the hat one of them had clearly made for him.

He noticed now that all the kids were sat around one big table, and they were all trying their hands at making something similar to what Ste wore begrudgingly on his head. They were loud – he could hear them from here – but he was doing his best to control them, and they looked happy enough. He seemed in control, and Brendan was sure an outsider would think Steven was loving it, but he knew him now, knew him better than any other tourist sat nearby, and there was something about the way he kept looking down at the ground that made Brendan sure he was hating it. It made him laugh with a heady mix of affection and pity.

It struck him how good Steven was at putting on this show - that he had everyone else fooled into thinking he was this vision of exuberance and happiness. He knew differently – had seen the pain hidden behind his eyes - and despite his reluctance to think about _why _he had seen that, he felt some kind of pride at being one of the few to see behind the façade.

He watched as another rep, a young girl that he couldn't admit to having seen before, walked over and seemed to take the reins from Steven. He smiled gratefully at her before waving goodbye to the kids and walking towards the poolside bar.

Brendan wasn't about to let that opportunity pass him by.

"Ye want a drink, Eileen?" he asked her coldly.

She barely glanced up from her book, a flick of the eyes that settled on him for less than a second before returning to the page.

"No," she said simply.

He huffed and shrugged his shoulders before standing up and pacing towards the bar.

Steven was stood hunched over the tiled mosaic surface of the pool bar as he approached him, his arms folded, elbows resting on the side and chin against his forearms. He was chatting away to Pedro behind the bar, Brendan catching the end of his sentence as he approached.

"...and I got back 'bout 4, so last thing I needed were to come in early to cover bloody kiddies playtime."

Pedro smiled at him then looked up to Brendan, "Yes, boss, what can I get you sir?"

Ste straightened up at the realisation a customer was present, but rolled his eyes when he realised it was just Brendan.

"I think I'll have one of your finest cocktails, please, anything with whiskey."

"Long Island Iced Tea?" Pedro asked him.

"Sounds perfect," he smiled back as the barman walked off to mix it for him.

He turned his head towards Steven, leaning one elbow against the bar and turning his attention fully onto the boy.

"Long night?"

"Yeah," Ste replied, trying to play down the smile that threatened to take over his face, "Bar crawl always is."

Brendan nodded towards the group of toddlers that Ste had been watching over.

"Bit different to last night, ain't it?"

Ste followed his gaze and laughed, "Well, actually, if you take away the alcohol, it's not that much different really."

Brendan laughed, surprising even himself. Was there nothing this lad couldn't do? He just made Brendan Brady laugh.

"Ye sort that fight out?" he asked, trying not to appear too dumbstruck.

"Oh, yeah," Ste replied lightly, "Nothin' I'm not used to on the bar crawls. Last night was pretty tame really."

Brendan flashed a suggestive smile Steven's way.

"Huh – tame?" he smirked at him knowingly, "Is that what you'd call it?"

Ste caught his drift right away, felt his cheeks burning up as he cast his eyes down in embarrassment, then lifted them again to lock back into the Irishman's gaze.

"Some parts were more excitin' than others," he teased, couldn't quite believe he'd managed to get it out sounding so composed.

"Oh ye -"

"One Long Island Iced Tea, boss," Pedro interrupted as he served up Brendan's drink.

Brendan wanted to curse him for cutting their little tête-à-tête short.

"Room 2 0 -"

"Put it on the staff account, Pedro," Ste butted in, smiling back at Brendan, "To say thanks for keepin' me occupied last night," he added with a wink.

"No problem Ste," Pedro nodded.

Ste turned back to Brendan with a smile, which quickly turned itself into a grimace when Ste caught sight of Eileen marching purposefully towards them.

"Thanks," Brendan smiled, unaware of his wife's approach, "You'll have to let m -"

"Hi, Ste," Eileen cut him off as she came to a rest infront of the two of them, "So, how was last night then?"

Ste glanced over to Brendan with hesitation, saw the rage settling over him and knew something was amiss.

"Yeah, it was great thanks," Ste replied to Eileen, feeling as if he was being interrogated for some crime he didn't commit, "Those bar crawls are a nightmare but thanks to this guy I got through it," he joked nervously as he nodded towards Brendan.

"So he was there then?" Eileen replied, words dripping with ice. Ste knew he was missing something, but he wasn't about to get himself involved in it.

"Yeah, not much of a dancer though, is he?" he replied as lightly as he could muster, trying to pretend he hadn't noticed the atmosphere having turned sub-zero since her arrival.

"So, did he behave himself?" she asked, her intentions now completely obvious.

"Eileen, will ye -" Brendan started, voice raised, but Ste jumped in and stopped him making matters worse.

"He was on his best behaviour, Eileen," he smiled sweetly, relieved to see her face soften slightly, "He was with me all night. You can see all the pictures on the Facebook group if you like?"

She seemed to relax at that offer - seemed to trust Ste enough to take his word for it. She couldn't have known that it was Ste she should be most concerned about.

"Ste, Anne needs you in reception," Pedro butted in, but Ste found himself thankful for the get out, wishing he could offer Brendan a similar one for the sake of his sanity.

"I'll see you guys later, yeah?" Ste said as he turned to walk away, eyes darting between the two of them.

"Bye, Ste," Eileen called after him before marching off.

"Thanks for the drink," Brendan shouted.

"Anytime," Ste replied, turning back to face him and giving him the thumbs up with both hands.

When he turned to walk on he cursed himself under his breath. Who does a double thumbs up these days? So not smooth, he thought to himself.

-s-

Brendan spent the rest of the day sitting out in the sun, lying back and letting himself relax with thoughts of Steven passing through his mind. He couldn't pinpoint what it was, but there was something about spending time with that lad that just made his mind cloud over, like nothing else mattered but the way his heart started racing, and the smile wouldn't leave his face. He felt like a fucking teenager, it was pathetic. But for some reason, he couldn't find it in him to care, or to stop himself from smiling.

He woke up from a doze, checked his phone and saw it was approaching 4pm. He looked across to Eileen reading 50 Shades of Grey beside him, laughed inwardly thinking _no-fucking-chance, _told her he was heading back to the room and headed for Reception.

Just as he thought, Steven was sitting there at his desk, dealing with a middle aged couple who seemed to be complaining about something. He watched as the lad nodded away, pretending to share their concerns and look interested, knowing full well Steven couldn't give a shit what they were moaning about. He glanced across at Brendan as he approached the desk and tried desperately to keep the smirk off his face, much to Brendan's amusement.

Brendan got to the desk, didn't say a word, just picked up Steven's phone as it lay on the desk beside him, unlocked the screen, saved his own mobile number under a new contact he named "Your New Favourite Person", then returned the phone to the desk. He winked at Ste as he glared up at him with awe, and walked away.

-s-

It was another agonising 25 minutes until he could get rid of the complaining couple sat before him, who couldn't seem to shut up about their linen only being changed every other day when they'd paid for four star service, and he eventually got rid of them with a promise to make sure the maids knew to change theirs every single day for the rest of the holiday and a free trip on the sunset cruise that night. They seemed satisfied enough with that, finally leaving him alone, and Ste waited until they were just out of view before grabbing his phone and hurriedly searching through it, unable to keep the smile off his face as he frantically flicked through to find out what the Irishman had been up to.

He was sure he saw him typing a number in, so he went straight to his contacts, but found nothing under B. He went to his recently called list, but the last call was from Anne two hours ago, and nothing since. He felt his good mood waning, going into his texts as a last resort, but again there was nothing. He checked his notes, his emails, his calendar – everything - but couldn't find a sign of the Irishman anywhere.

As a last resort he went into his contacts again and scrolled through – saw numbers for school friends, old girl friends, people he hadn't spoken to in years, no idea why he still had their number. He went past the numbers he wished he'd never learnt, reminders of a past he wanted to forget about, but couldn't bring himself to delete incase he needed them one day. He was almost at the end when he saw it, the new addition to his contacts, right at the bottom of the list.

He smirked on one side of his mouth, laughed to himself, half at the arrogance of the name he had saved himself under, and half through excitement about what this meant. He quickly gathered up his paperwork and moved it to his office, his mind racing with thoughts about what he would say to Brendan, how his first text would read, how he needed to make the first move because Brendan didn't have his number yet – the perfect reason to text him. He locked up the office and made his way back to the flat, eyes fixed onto his phone as he typed out then deleted text after text, trying to find the right words.

He supposed at least his indecision was making him seem less desperate, elongating the time it took to get the message sent.

_Hi its Ste. This is my numba._

Too serious – delete.

_Arrogant fucker._

Too rude for a first text – delete.

_Fancy a drink?_

Too forward – delete.

_Wot u up to?_

Boring – delete.

_Who says I wanted ur numba?_

Too defensive.

_Who says I wanted ur numba? ;)_

Hm. Yeah – that'd do.

_X _or no _X_?

He couldn't decide. He always put at least one on his texts, even to male friends. But he thought it might come across a bit desperate.

Maybe he would save that for further down the line.

His thumb wavered over the _send _button, unsure of himself. He was standing outside his front door now like a lemon, realised how pathetic he was being and took a deep breath, looked away from the screen, and winced as he tapped his thumb down over the send button.

He let himself into the flat, noticed he was home alone and went to make himself a coffee. He kept hold of his phone, clicking the button every 3 seconds to see if a response had come through.

Two minutes later he felt it buzz, his heart leaping into his throat as he saw the response.

_You did._

He swallowed down hard.

_Wen?_

He replied straightaway, then chastised himself for being so eager.

He needn't have worried, Brendan's reply came through just as quickly.

_When you looked at me like that across the pool today._

Ste let out a little squeal. Brendan was flirting with him. Brendan Brady was flirting with him through text message. There was only one thing for it - flirt back.

_From wot I rememba u wasn't complainin much ;)_

It buzzed seconds later.

_Damn right._

_You free later?_

Double text?! Brendan was double texting.

_Wot 4?_

As he pressed send his heart sunk. He was working tonight - was in charge of the sunset cruise, despite his constant reluctance to do it with his seasickness.

_Drink? I owe you one._

Came Brendan's reply. He was going to have to turn him down, against all his bodily instincts.

_Soz, forgot I gota run the sunset cruise tonite. 2Moro?_

The text back wasn't as instant as the others had been. Ste hoped it was through disappointment.

_What time are you back?_

Blimey, he was keen.

_Its a late 1 – not back til gone midnite._

The response was delayed again.

_OK, see you tomorrow._

Ste could almost hear Brendan's disappointment coming out of the phone, wished more than anything he could change his shift tonight but knew Anne was performing and there was no-one else stupid enough to take evening work off him.

_Damn right_

He replied, echoing Brendan's words from earlier. He waited for another reply, but nothing came.

All night he kept checking his phone, knowing deep down that their text conversation had ended but hoping foolishly that Brendan would be missing him enough to send another cheeky one through. He forgot to remind himself that not everybody was as desperate as he was – some people had more self control.

He was on the sunset cruise that night, always full of sickly sweet couples, old and young, which usually sent him over the edge of jealousy and made him feel queasy, made worse with the seasickness. But tonight, he didn't feel so bitter about it. And he knew exactly why.

It didn't make the cruise any more interesting, of course. The sales spiel for the excursion enticed people in with stories of dolphins riding past as the sun set, but in reality Ste had been on about 50 of these cruises over the course of the season and he had only ever seen dolphins twice. Sure enough, there weren't any about tonight, and after giving the welcome chat he went to sit in the cabin alone, flashing his phone screen on every five seconds, reading back through their texts from earlier in the night.

Brendan was definitely into him, and he wasn't going to start denying he felt himself come apart whenever he was near the Irishman. He wasn't the conventional type Ste had seen himself going for – he had always found himself fancying lads similar to himself – but if he wasn't honest he didn't see himself having a type, and he still wasn't completely sure how to go about his life as a gay man.

When Brendan was around, he couldn't deny the shiver than ran down his spine, the warmth coursing through his stomach. He came alive at his kiss, the most intense rush of emotions he had ever experienced, and if he had ever been in doubt about his sexuality it had been confirmed to him in that moment on the beach, and again in the store cupboard last night.

Even after the way Brendan had reacted on the beach that night, and even knowing the rumours about "the gangster" Brendan Brady and what he had done - that he was bad news - he couldn't help but see the good in him. He was a good man – could see it in the way he looked after his children; the way he stood by his family. He could see it when he recognised in Brendan's eyes what Ste had been fighting with for so long himself – the reluctance to accept himself. To see himself as a gay man, and to have the strength to come out and tell the world about it.

Brendan wasn't there yet. He may have been older, but Ste got the distinct impression that when it came to that subject, Brendan had a hell of a lot more demons to fight that Ste had ever had, and he understood why he might need to tread on eggshells around the Irishman for a while.

He shook the thought from his mind, anyway – why was he getting so caught up in it? The guy would be on a flight back home in just over a week and Ste would probably never see him again. Then he would be back to missing his kids and fighting with Amy, something he was grateful to Brendan for distracting him from over the past couple of days. He was just some holiday fling - he knew that.

So why was it starting to feel like so much more?

When they returned back at the hotel just after 12.30, Ste was well and truly exhausted; knew he looked like shit and couldn't wait to fold himself up in his duvet and drop off to sleep. It had been a long day, especially after a late one last night, but at least none of the staff he knew were working this late and couldn't see him looking this terrible.

He had just waved off the coach driver and ushered the cruise group back into the hotel when he caught sight of a familiar head of hair over on one of the sofa's in the lobby area, focusing his weary gaze over in his direction and grinning as he made out the distinctive 'tache. Typical for him to be here when he looked like death, exhausted from a busy few days. Brendan picked up his glass of whiskey and the second glass that sat next to it, and walked over to Ste as he stood next to the reception desk.

"I thought you said you'd see me tomorrow?" Ste questioned him playfully as he got closer.

Brendan looked at his watch then back at Steven.

"It is tomorrow," he replied smugly.

Ste bit down on his bottom lip to suppress the out-of-control smile that was about to spread over the whole of his face, urging himself to play it cool.

"Well, you're eager," he teased back as he took the glass Brendan offered to him.

"Sláinte," Brendan said as he held his glass up to clink with Ste's.

Ste had no idea what he had just said, but he got the gesture so he clinked glasses and mumbled out a "Cheers" in response.

His eyes locked on Brendan's as they both took back their drink, swallowing hard, and Brendan was transfixed with watching him, noticing the bob of his adams apple and the grimace at the bitterness of it that Ste tried desperately to hide from him.

He stepped towards him, then took a quick glance around the reception area. He felt careless with the amount of alcohol he had consumed throughout the night – to block away out the sound of Eileen in his ear and to help pass the time until he could be here with Steven – but he needed to double check they were alone. It was eerie, to be stood in this expansive room alone, a room that was so busy with life throughout the day, and yet was so quiet and still right now. It was just him and Steven, and for a few glorious seconds it felt as if nothing else in the world mattered. He stepped forwards, could feel the heat from the lads body as it radiated from him, mere centimetres away from him; could feel the warmth of his breath against his face; swore he could hear the lads heartbeat from where he was standing, although it could well have been his own.

He glanced around them again – still alone – and he leant in to place a gentle kiss against his pouting lips. Sensation rushed through him, his mouth watering as light and life flooded through his veins. He leant in and kissed him again, eyes open, watching as Steven's pupils blew wide with desire. He wasn't sure he had ever experienced anything so intimate before in his life.

He was about to go in again, was already lifting his hand to pull at the back of the lads head, bring him as close to himself as he could, but the sound of the hotel doors sliding open and a giggling group of girls tumbling through tipsily reminded him how exposed they were there.

"Anywhere we can go?" Brendan whispered as he leant into Ste's ear.

Ste was breathless, couldn't muster up control of himself enough to speak in that moment, just slid out of Brendan's hold and walked towards the office. He unlocked the door quickly, looked back to Brendan and beckoned him in with that look in his eyes.

Brendan glanced around the lobby area once more, grinned wickedly and followed Ste into the office.

As soon as the door closed Ste was up against him, bodies touching, chest to chest, lips meeting frantically, teeth almost clashing, tongues finding each other and connecting with a rough sense of passion and need and carnal desire. Ste's hands were on his face, fingers reaching around his neck and Brendan lifted his own hands to the back of his head, pulling him in, needing him closer, closer still, although no air seemed to separate them in that moment.

It was heated, and he could feel the effect he was having over Steven; could feel it pushing against his inner thigh below where their groins were flush together, the thought of it stirring the sensation in his loins and making him even more desperate for the boy.

His mind was cloudy with the whiskey, and with something else he couldn't quite recognise but which he knew had been present that night on the beach, and last night in the bar. It made him reckless, made him leave the rest of the world behind him, all that was important being the body pressing against him right now.

He pushed back against Steven, got his arms around his waist and lifted him slightly, pushing him backwards, away from the wall now until his legs hit the back of the desk; heard the almost yelp as he breathed it into his mouth, the sound almost completely absorbed into their kiss, the frantic push and slide of their tongues, dancing together as if they both knew the moves off by heart. He lifted Steven again, the lad taking the hint and resting his arse against the desk, sitting down slightly before bringing his thighs up, wrapping them around Brendan and locking his ankles behind him, their bodies still flush against one another and the new angle bringing their hardened cocks agonisingly close; the sensation of this intimacy sending a shiver up Ste's spine.

Ste felt wild with reckless abandon - forgot about everything outside of these four walls, reaching down on instinct and working the buttons of Brendans shirt, quick and frantic as he opened them up one by one, needing to feel that skin on skin, wanting to taste the sweat on his chest caused by their passion. He slid the shirt off his shoulders as Brendan grabbed at the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head, the kiss breaking apart for the first time and they both felt the loss, the absence of each others heat in that short second, making them desperate to reconnect as soon as they could.

Ste revelled in the warmth of Brendan's chest as his skin connected with his own, the heat and intimacy of it making his mind heady with excitement. He ran his fingers gently down Brendan's back, felt the ripple of the muscles in his back working away as his arms explored his own skin, both of them learning each other, needing to know each other more than they had ever needed it before.

Brendan pulled away from his mouth and he moaned after him, turning back into satisfaction when he felt his lips against his neck, sucking and biting gently at the sensitive line from his ear downwards, his whole body igniting with goosebumps at the sensation as he whispered out a _fuck-sake _and an _oh-my-god-yes _instinctively.

Brendan purred as Steven spoke, approval of his words of encouragement, telling him he liked it, liked what the older man was doing to him, wanted more from him, and Brendan responded to it. He slipped his hand in between them, fingers tracing down Steven's chest and over his abs, tickling at his treasure trail and down to the waistband of his shorts.

He pulled away from his neck, rested his forehead against Steven's and looked into his eyes - a question of consent; was he alright with this? Steven hesitated, knew it was a question of trust, and he urged forwards, kissing at Brendan's mouth hungrily, signalling as clear as anything that he wanted this. He _needed _this.

Brendan unbuttoned his shorts and slipped his hand in, reaching for the length of him, grasping his hand around him, swallowing Steven's moans inside his mouth, feeling his shoulders drop as he basked in the sensation of it.

He slid his hand gently down his cock, smooth as velvet, solid as a rock, bigger than Brendan was expecting given the size of the boy, and he smiled as Steven's body continued to writhe with pleasure.

He worked him expertly - slow at first, letting his thumb graze over the slit each time his hand worked upwards, and squeezing in slightly when he neared the base. He quickened his pace, faster with each stroke, until Steven couldn't kiss him any longer and pulled away to allow himself to breathe. His moans increased in volume as his back started to arch, his mouth filthy as fuck as it begged him, _Brendan-yes-oh-fuck-yes-please _and Brendan fucking loved it, had never been with anyone so vocal and it ignited something inside of him, wanting more of the boy, wanting to work his hand harder and faster to hear more of those words tumbling from him with wild abandon.

He felt the pre-come leaking from his slit, used his thumb to rub it around, thought about leaning down and drinking it in, tasting the boy but to do so he would have to fight his way out of the grip Steven had around his neck, and he would have to pull his eyes away from Steven's beautiful face, and he wanted to watch, wanted to see him come undone, wanted to kiss him through his orgasm.

Steven's hips starting rocking, and he sensed the boy was near to the edge. He ignored the ache that was starting in his arm, nothing mattered now but the boy before him, and he stripped his cock down roughly now, desperately, until his screams exploded around him, his dick throbbing as the white heat pulsed out of him, his shoulders dropping, forehead resting back against Brendan's as he leant in and kissed him, languidly, needily, then pulled away and moved closer, the need to embrace the boy taking over him. He stood between his legs and pulled him into his chest, the boys body limp and spent from his own doing, held him close as they both caught their breath, both brought themselves down from that moment of intensity, both in awe of the moment they had just shared. Their chests close together, Steven's come against his stomach, mixing with their sweat and making them both dirty, but neither of them cared – neither of them had the strength to care. In that moment, for several seconds, nothing fucking mattered but the two of them.

After a few minutes he felt Steven's breath return to normal, and sensed an oncoming question when his body tensed up slightly against him.

"Does Eileen know?" Ste asked innocently.

Brendan frowned – why the fuck was he thinking of Eileen now?

"Know what?" he replied quietly into Steven's hair as his head lay against his chest.

"That you're gay."

Brendan laughed defensively and pulled himself away from the lad.

"I'm not gay."

Ste stopped and looked up at him in utter confusion. He was sure what they been doing seconds earlier was really quite gay. He half thought the Irishman was joking, but when he looked up at him he saw that rage again, that guarded expression, his eyes closed off - not open and inviting like they had been moments before.

"Don't go getting ahead of yourself, Steven," Brendan sneered down at him before pulling his body away from him completely, the cold air hitting him instantly; "I'm not like you."

Ste was totally taken aback at the way he said it, such hate and venom in his voice, and he watched as he picked up his shirt and flung it back over his shoulders, buttoning up quicker than Ste had been able to get it off him earlier. He couldn't look at him, was avoiding Steven's glare as if to look him in the eye in that second would be to surrender; would force him to break down those walls that he had built in the last thirty seconds and fall under the spell once again.

If he had looked he would have seen the hurt in Steven's eyes – the confusion, yes - but the hurt also; that the rejection was coming so soon after the intensity of what they had just shared. It may have been the first time Ste had been near a man, but he was sure it was bigger than usual – that what they had shared minutes earlier was _different _to how it usually would be. More important, somehow.

Once Brendan was dressed he stopped, stood halfway between Steven and the door, awkward in his own skin, head dipped and eyes fixed to the ground. He moved his lips as if he was about to speak, as if he knew something needed to be said, something he wanted to say, but he closed his mouth again, unable to let the words out.

He wanted so desperately to give Steven something in that moment – something to let him know that it had _meant_ something, it had affected him. But to tell him that would be to admit something to himself that he was nowhere near ready for. He could see his eyes tracing over him as he sat still against the desk, chest shining with the after effects of what Brendan had done to him, his first sexual encounter with another man, and now he was going to leave him, leave him sitting there in this state as he fled.

He wanted to be someone else in that moment – to be the kind of person that could fuck the world and be who Steven needed right now, someone who could hold him and make it all perfect, take away his vulnerability and give him hope of something more.

But he couldn't be that person – he had never been that person. He wasn't gentle – wasn't strong enough to be gentle with him now – he had never been in this place before. He had never cared enough before, never noticed the look on their face afterwards, never wanted to see what he had done to them, only ever thought of himself and what he needed. But right now, for the first time, he wanted to be the kind of person that could take Steven in his arms and tell him what he wanted to hear.

But he couldn't.

So he turned and he left the office, and he walked back to his room where his wife was waiting for him.

And the image of Steven as he left him sitting there in the office haunted him as he slept that night.

_**Please review and let me know what you think! xx**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**I know I say it every chapter, but thank you so much for your reviews, follows, favourites and for reading - I love you all! I hope the level of gratitude I feel towards each and every one of you doesn't get diluted with each time I say it!**_

_**So, just a warning, I don't like this chapter much. There's not a lot of Brendan/Ste interaction, despite it being a freaking loooong chapter, although it does lead up to what is quite an important turning point in the story.**_

_**Also, I was writing each chapter as one day on the holiday, but I think it will change to two chapters covering one day from now on because it seems I tend to waffle and the chapters would just get obscenely long otherwise! So the next chapter will follow the story on from straight after what happens at the end of this chapter.**_

_**Hope you like it anyway, even if I don't lol :)**_

Day Eight

Despite his exhaustion, Ste only felt worse as he collapsed into bed last night, and the resulting broken nights sleep had left him in desperate need of the lie in he had planned today thanks to his morning off.

Only it never worked like that did it?

He had been aware of himself tossing and turning in the night, the room seeming far hotter than usual, the road outside his window seeming so much louder than any other night. His mind had raced with thoughts of the Irishman, but he had tried against all of his bodily instincts to block him out. He needed sleep before he could process what was happening with the guy, but the more he tried to force his body to zone out, the more his deep blue eyes haunted the images dancing behind his eyelids, and the further his body rooted itself in consciousness.

After hours of shifting in his bed he had given in and put a film on his laptop, and that had seemed to distract him from thoughts of Brendan long enough for him to drop off. He woke up greeted by the sunlight bursting through his thinly veiled window, neck aching as he'd slept half sitting up on his pillows, laptop by his side in sleep mode. He reached over for his phone, clicked the button to light up the screen and groaned when he saw the time. 6.47am.

He wondered to himself why, whenever he had the morning off and a chance of a lie in, his body refused to let him indulge in it. He tried to close his eyes and will his body to re-enter its slumber, trying to push back the thoughts that threatened to flood his brain, knew if he let himself pander over them he had no chance of falling back to sleep, but his efforts were fruitless. He had never been the type of person who could fall back to sleep – once he was up, he was up – no matter how hard he tried.

After what had seemed like hours, in which he hoped he had drifted off again without realising, he blinked his eyes open and checked the time again. 7.01am. And no messages.

"Ugh," he moaned out loud, not entirely convinced that it was just the early hour that was making him feel like this, but most likely the lack of contact from _him _as well, especially after last night, "Fucks sake," he continued in the same vein.

He rolled over to lay on his back, yawning forcefully and blinking away the sleep from his eyes, and he heard a knock on his bedroom door, followed immediately by the handle turning.

"Morning," Anne padded in quietly, almost at a whisper until she saw that Ste was already wide awake, "Thought I heard you talking, what you doing up at this time on your morning off?"

"Couldn't sleep," he deadpanned, unimpressed.

"Coffee?" she asked sympathetically.

"Yeah, thanks," he smiled up at her and watched her walk away.

As he lay there waiting for Anne to return, he felt a wave of nerves pass over him. He knew she was going to ask, knew she would pick up on his altered mood, and realised he couldn't hide it all from her. After the way Brendan had reacted last night, after what they had done together – what Brendan had _done to him_ – and then denied it and left him sitting there feeling nothing but shame, there was no way he could keep it all from his best friend.

He clicked his phone screen again subconsciously. Still nothing.

He didn't even know what he was expecting. An apology? He figured that wasn't something Brendan gave out so easily. An explanation, then? Somehow that didn't seem likely. Right now, he would have been happy with a proposition – a casual text asking for a drink, or anything – just something to let him know that it – whatever _it _was – hadn't ended last night, before it had even begun.

He was starting to realise that he could live with Brendan's problems, with his self loathing and denial, but he didn't want to picture spending the next week without him.

"Extra strong, two sugars," Anne smiled as she came back into the room with two steaming mugs of coffee. She knelt up on the bed as she passed one of them over to Ste, then went to sit in the bed next to him but stopped when she saw the laptop was in her way. She eyed it suspiciously then returned her gaze to Ste.

"You been up to no good on those dodgy websites to help you sleep again?" she teased, eyes dancing with delight as she pursed her lips into a tight smile and raised her eyebrows up at him.

"Oh, piss off," he retorted playfully, before lifting up the screen to display _Anchorman _on pause three quarters of the way through, "watching a film weren't I?" he added by way of explanation.

"Whatever you say," she laughed back as he moved the laptop out of her way, letting her slip into the bed beside him, the pair of them side by side sitting up against the headboard.

Ste took a big sip of the hot syrupy coffee as he picked his phone up again, checking once more for messages. Still nothing.

"A watched phone never rings," Anne said quietly, wise beyond her years as ever.

"Who says I'm watchin' it?" Ste cracked back. He didn't know why he was feeling so defensive about it – Anne knew about this 'thing' between him and Brendan, and she would have to be blind to miss seeing that it was affecting him. He just guessed that if he let himself admit _how much_ it was affecting him, he wouldn't be able to deny it to himself any longer. Even after less than a week, he couldn't get the man out of his mind, and wanted nothing more than to see his name pop up on his phone display.

"It happened again," Ste said, out of the blue, as if to explain his current mood.

Anne paused before catching his drift.

"With Brendan?"

"Yeah," Ste confirmed, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, neither of them knowing where to take the conversation.

"Was it – was – when?" Anne asked eventually, falling over her words, trying to tread the line between intrigue and concern.

"Last night."

"On the cruise?"

"No, no – he was 'ere when I got back," Ste explained sheepishly, "He was waitin' for me."

Anne sighed. She would have usually been excited to hear this kind of news, but judging by the defeated look plastered all over Ste's face, and adding to that the fact that he kept checking his phone every ten seconds out of desperation, she guessed the night hadn't ended so well.

"He kissed me, he was all drunk and over-confident," Ste continued to explain, Anne listening on, "I took 'im into the office -"

"Our office?!" Anne shrieked in mock offence, "Oh god, please tell me those apology letters I wrote out yesterday aren't there all covered in your -"

"No, Anne!" Ste laughed back as he slapped her arm playfully, before sheepishly adding, "Although those shorts definitely need a wash now."

"Oh my god, Steven Hay!" she shrieked as he giggled beside her, "Did you, you know?" she asked as she nudged him and winked.

"No! I hardly know the bloke, Anne," Ste replied, knowing full well that a minor detail like that wouldn't have stopped him if Brendan had offered it to him last night, "He just, y'know," he tried explaining with his eyes, glancing at his hand and then his groin.

Anne followed his gaze, wide eyed as she caught his drift, eager for more details

"And?" she asked expectantly.

Ste paused, pushing his tongue up against his teeth as he failed to hide his smile.

"And...It was the most bloody amazin' feelin' I've ever known!" he beamed back at her, "I'm not even jokin' ya, like, just..." he couldn't finish his sentence, just exhaled sharply and lent his head back against the wall.

He heard her laughing and joined in, looking over at her with his beaming smile.

"So why can't you sleep, too busy trying to re-live the moment?" she teased, narrowing her eyes at him.

But her smile wasn't returned this time – instead she watched Ste's face drop, expression blank as he focused on his hands, picking imaginary crumbs up out of the bed.

"Ste?" she asked, concerned now in her friends sudden change of mood, "Ste, what is it?"

She waited patiently for his reply.

"It's my own stupid fault," he muttered.

Anne didn't push him, didn't speak, just sat there watching him work it all out in his own head before confirming it to the world. When he eventually spoke, he was quiet and reserved, his voice full of regret.

"Afterwards, he just held me. It were dead nice – felt all safe, like – and I asked him. I should never 'ave asked, should have just left it, but stupid old me couldn't keep me mouth shut could I. So I asked him about Eileen – if she knew, like, about him...about him being gay. And it were like someone just flipped a switch. He just backed away, his guard went up, and he was all like _I'm not gay _an' then he just left. Just walked off an' left me there, like it meant fuck all to 'im."

He shook his head, felt tears pricking his eyes as the anger built up through his muscles. Anne lent an arm over his shoulders and pulled him into her, comforting him with her warmth.

"It's not your fault, Ste," she tried to console him, but he pulled away and shook his head, rejecting her kind words.

"It is though isn't it – I should never have asked him about Eileen."

"You had a right to ask, Ste. It's not like it's none of your business. He's cheating on his wife with you – you totally have a right to ask about her."

"I don't though do I? I don't even know anything about the guy, he's only after a bit of fun on his holiday and I'm letting myself be taken for a total ride by him."

Anne tried to comfort him but it was no use – Ste was determined to feel sorry for himself, to beat himself up about what had happened, what he had said and what he didn't say. Anne just sat and listened, offering a reassuring shoulder for him to vent on; a comforting arm to hold him when his rant was over.

She had always felt protective over Ste, looked at him like a little brother sometimes, and right now she wanted nothing more than to find Brendan and give him a piece of her mind, but she rose above it. She knew Ste wouldn't thank her for that, so instead she settled in next to him and suggested they watch a DVD together before she had to leave for work in a few hours, and Ste was more than happy to take up the offer of a little escapism from his life, however brief.

-s-

Brendan's erratic sleeping patterns had returned, it seemed, and he blamed it entirely on the boy with the lashes.

Last night had been...desperate. He had never _waited _for someone like that before – never felt as if the stability of his life depended on seeing that _one _person, even for just a second. So he had encouraged Eileen to stay up with him for a drink in the bar, and had declined her offer to go back up to the room with her at around 11pm, telling her he was stopping for a nightcap and not to wait up for him. He had checked his watch constantly as the minutes ticked by slowly as fuck; he had watched the hotel entrance each time the door slid open; and he had felt a rush of actual _excitement _pass through him when he had seen the coach pull up outside at thirty minutes past midnight, Steven climbing off with his clipboard.

There was something so sexy about watching him go about his job, being in charge of the group, them all depending on him, trusting him and him alone with their time and with their money. Brendan was sure Steven could get most people to trust him with their life with just one flick of those thick lashes and one peek at that sunshine smile of his.

The way the lads face had lit up last night when he had seen him across the lobby – it had made his knees feel weak at the time – but now the memory of it left him hollow. He hadn't been able to resist – hadn't even wanted to – and it had been incredible, to stand there and to watch him come apart at his own touch. For the first time, he had been there with that man because he wanted to be there with him, because to be anywhere else alone in that moment would have been torture for him, and he had exposed himself to the lad, without him even knowing; and for a few deceptively calm moments, he had held him in his arms, and it had been breathtaking.

But then Steven had ruined things, had popped the bubble and let the outside world in, brought up Eileen and the _gay _thing, and Brendan had freaked out.

Now as he lay in his bed, waking his mind to a new day, a fresh start, he was plagued by memories of the monsters that had haunted him in that moment. His body was weakened by the disturbed nights sleep, but he was losing the will to fight against those demons. They were tiring him, day by day – he longed to cut loose.

He lent over and checked his phone. He knew there wouldn't be anything, wouldn't blame the lad if he never wanted to see him again, but he still felt the disappointment course through him when he saw the blank screen. He deliberated whether to text him – knew it was up to him to make the move – but he couldn't find the words, didn't have a clue how to approach things. This was all new to him, too.

As he padded out of bed and into the bathroom, a despondent atmosphere cutting through the air around him, Eileen barged through the bedroom door.

"Oh good, you're up. I need you to watch the boys whilst I go and make a phone call home," she told him, not even any small talk, just take, take, take.

"Uh-huh," Brendan grunted back sleepily.

"I've given them breakfast, just clear up when they're done and get them ready for the beach and we'll head down when I get back."

"Ok," Brendan barely had time to respond before she spun around and waltzed out of the door, slamming it shut as she left.

Brendan raised his eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders and muttered _Morning, darling, _under his breath, before joining his boys out on the balcony.

He watched them playing together, saw how Declan watched Paraic, how he jumped up and pulled him back by his shoulder when he got a little too close to the balcony railings, and Brendan smiled to himself. If there was one thing he could be proud of in his life, it was these boys. It was that these boys would never have to suffer like he did at the hands of his father.

Granted, it was Eileen that did most of the work with them – she cleaned after them, cooked for them, organised school work, lunch-boxes and PE kits for them. She entertained them when they got back from school, recorded their favourite programmes on TV, drove them to football and rugby practice on the weekends. Brendan made sure they wanted for nothing, he brought the money in, but it was rare that he got to spend moments like this with his boys, just enjoying their company, without Eileen breathing down his neck.

He tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach – the one that seemed to have been replaced over the past few days with thoughts of Steven – but he had never let the threat against his family slip completely from his mind. He had been reckless, maybe too reckless this time, and there were people back in the UK who were out to get him. He had been forced out, and he didn't know if he could ever really go back to the life back home. He hoped to God that things would settle down over the next week, and that he wouldn't have to sit down and talk to his boys about why they couldn't see their school friends again, or why they could go back home and sleep in their own beds ever again.

He didn't ever want to give them a reason to see him as anything other than their hero, but he was running out of time to find a fix for it all. He decided to enjoy their blissful ignorance whilst it lasted.

"Hey, boys," Brendan smiled as he went out to join them on the balcony.

"Da', quick, look," Paddy beamed up at him as he lent a little to close to the railings again, "Look at that man, he looks like Flash Gordon."

Brendan lent over the railings with him, holding Paddy's shoulders to steady him, and glanced down at the pool. Sure enough, there was a perma-tanned white-blond man in the smallest of speedo's parading arrogantly around the pool. Flash Gordon had been Brendan's favourite growing up – that and Superman – and he had always encouraged his boys to appreciate the classics whenever he had the chance. Paddy had always shared his love for the All American superhero, and he laughed as he watched his son's beaming face.

"You're right, kid, looks just like him."

"Is it him, do ye think, Da?" Paddy asked expectantly.

"Paddy, Flash Gordon's well old now," Dec interrupted, eager to burst his little brothers bubble, "He's ancient now, it's not gonna be him."

Brendan smiled at his eldest son. He was growing up so quickly, at that age now where he was starting to think for himself, where his true personality was starting to come through. It wouldn't be long until the dreaded teenage years, and Brendan only hoped his boys wouldn't follow too closely in his own footsteps.

"Maybe it's his son," Brendan suggested, smiling as he looked between his boys.

"Yeah!" Paddy beamed, "Can I get his autogaff?"

Brendan laughed affectionately at his younger boy, "You mean auto_graph, _Pariac?"

"Yeah, Da," he smiled back up at him.

"Maybe later, eh," Brendan suggested, Paraic nodding back at him eagerly.

"Can we go to the beach today, Da?" Declan asked, suddenly showing the enthusiasm his brother had exuded over the man by the pool, "I can show ye the new game me and Paddy and Daniel made up."

"Yeah, sure, Deccy," Brendan replied, "Who's Daniel?"

"He's our friend, he's from Bear-nin-gum," Paddy advised his dad with pride.

Dec shook his had, "Bir-ming-ham, Paddy, not Bear-nin-gum."

"That's what it sounds like when he says it though – Bear-nin-gum," Paddy explained defensively.

"That's because everybody talks funny there," Dec explained to his little brother.

Brendan was smiling as he cleared up their breakfast bowls, watching on as his sons bickered between themselves. He missed this – the simplicity of family life. He wished he had been given the chance to have a childhood, one like he'd made sure his boys have had. He couldn't even remember what it was like to be ten years old and for your biggest concern to be that your sibling couldn't pronounce the name of a city in the Midlands properly.

He laughed to himself, shook any thoughts of _that man _from his mind and tried to focus on what he had to look after now. Subconsciously, he flashed his phone screen up again as he held it in his hand – must have been the fifteenth time he'd checked it now – but still nothing. He tried to wash over those thoughts, too, and concentrate on having a good day on holiday with his kids.

"Come on then, boys," he interrupted as he sensed the onset of an argument between the two of them, "Whoever can get their beach bags packed quickest can have the first ice cream on the beach."

The pair of them shot up and starting organising their towels and beach toys, changing into their swimming shorts with Brendan's help, chatting away about which ice cream they were going to have. Eileen waltzed back into the room just as he had them standing there, bags packed, swimming shorts on, ready for the beach, and felt a smug sense of satisfaction that he may have actually done something right for once. If he hadn't known better, he might have thought Eileen looked a little bit impressed.

"My god, Brendan," she commented dryly as she surveyed the scene before her, "Does this mean you've actually done as I asked for once?"

Brendan bit his lip – he didn't want the boys to witness _another _argument. He was sure Declan at least was old enough to sense that not all was well between his parents, and he didn't want to give him any further cause for concern – especially when he was so excited about his day on the beach.

"Not now, Eileen," Brendan pleaded with her, glancing down at the boys.

She reluctantly dropped her shoulders and went to pick up her beach bag and the other things the boys had packed together.

"Come on, then," she smiled down at the boys, "Off to the beach, we go."

Brendan followed the three of them out, picking up just his phone and headphones as he walked out of the room, heaving a sigh as he resigned himself to another day of Eileen's passive aggressive behaviour.

-s-

After just over an hour on the beach, Brendan was restless. He had tried to play in the sand with the boys, but they had found their friend Daniel and become far more interested in what he had to say, so he had given up and sat on the sun lounger with his wife. She ignored him when he tried to make conversation, so he resorted to drowning out the sounds of the world around him with Johnny Cash's melancholic voice singing in his ear.

He tried to get lost in the words of the song, tried to zone himself out, to fall into a daze and block out the rest of his problems. But there was one thing he just couldn't keep out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

The look on Steven's face as he had left him last night.

He had looked so innocent, despite sitting there half naked, covered in the after effects of their sordid ten minutes in the office. His bright, wide, intriguing eyes, so open to him and to what he could do to him, stood staring back at him wantonly. He was confused, wondering why Brendan was backing off like this, clearly wishing he could turn back time and keep him mouth shut about Eileen. But he couldn't, and Brendan couldn't find the strength within himself to shut out those thoughts, those demons he wanted so much to be able to fight down, and so he had ran away. Ran like the coward he so clearly was.

He clicked his phone screen again – still nothing. He wanted to see him, wanted to talk to him. He wanted to make things right, but he had no idea how – he had never been at the mercy of his feelings like this before. Even with Eileen, they had been young, trapped into marriage because of a few awkward drunken fumbles, forced into it by the morals they had been brought up believing, by the religion which was meant to help guide and protect them, but instead forced them down this road of bitterness and resentment.

He tried to think about what he could say, words he could text Steven to make up for what had happened, but he could think of nothing good enough, nothing sincere enough, without giving away too much of what was spinning around inside his head. He thought about phoning him – maybe hearing the sound of his voice would change things – maybe the gesture of making that move would be enough for Steven to forgive him. But what would he say? What could he say to get them back on track – whatever that track was – or just back in that beautifully heated moment they had revelled in last night.

Phoning him was no good, he resolved – he needed to see him. Needed to have this out with him face to face. He told Eileen he was going for a walk, and without another seconds thought he slipped his white linen shirt back on, hid his eyes from the world behind his aviator shades, and made his way back through the hotel lobby and over the road, only stopping when found himself stood right outside the building where Steven lived.

He stopped himself, suddenly realising he hadn't worked out what he was going to say, what he _could _say to make up for last night. He had no excuse to be here, nothing he could hide behind, nothing that could explain to Steven why he _had _to see him, other than the fact that he couldn't get the lad out of his head. But he couldn't tell him that, could he? He couldn't let him know, let him inside his head, couldn't give him that power. Not when Brendan already felt completely powerless in his presence anyway.

He paced up and down, trying to figure out the words in his head, half debating just giving up and going back to the beach – but he couldn't pull himself away. He'd come this far, he just needed to find a plausible reason for him being here, and then he could go up and see the boy who had occupied his thoughts all night.

He paced up and down the pavement, desperately racking thought his thoughts to find something believable.

-s-

Anne left for work around midday, checking Ste had enough to keep him busy for the next few hours before he had to come and join her, and headed off to do some admin in the office before opening the desk at 1pm. As she rounded the steps out of the apartment, she saw a familiar figure outside, literally pacing up and down the pavement, unaware she had spotted him. She toyed with the idea of clipping his ear, slapping his arm and teaching him a lesson for making Ste feel the way he had this morning. But she couldn't bring herself to hate him. She felt a strange affinity with the man, as if they somehow understood each others loneliness, and it made her sympathetic to him despite herself.

"You lost, Irish?" she called out after him, making him stop in his tracks.

He spun on his heels, arms outstretched as he turned to face her, fake welcoming smile plastered over his face that Anne wasn't falling for.

"Well if it isn't the glamorous Mitzeee," he sneered sarcastically.

"I wouldn't if I were you," she warned, "You wouldn't know what's hit you if you had Mitzeee to deal with, trust me."

"Oh yeah," he replied, "Why's that?"

"She's not as forgiving as me," Anne replied straight back, meaning every word.

Brendan seemed to falter at her sincerity, as if he was shocked that Anne wasn't even the slightest bit ashamed of her alter ego, and yet she still wasn't trying to hide the real Anne away. Not from Brendan, anyway.

"Why should I be scared of ye, anyway," Brendan asked defensively, as if it was all he could think up to fill the silence.

"Because I'm Ste's best friend," she answered plainly, "And he tells me everything. And judging by the way you're wearing out that one patch of pavement, it sure looks like you could use someone to talk to right now."

Brendan breathed out a sharp laugh, but he didn't walk away, and he didn't threaten her to keep her distance either. He had found it comforting to talk to this pint-sized princess once before, and he guessed he had nothing to lose, seeing as she already knew about his secret. He shuffled to face her head on.

"Coffee?" she asked, as if she had read his mind.

"You lead the way," he replied quietly.

He followed her a few hundred yards down the road, into a small café frequented mainly by Cypriots. There were red and white chequered tablecloths on the tables, both inside and on the pavement outside, and just two elderly man sat inside discussing something heated in their native tongue. Anne motioned to the lady behind the counter to bring two coffees over, and they took a seat in the corner.

After a few moments of loaded silence, Anne spoke out.

"So, I don't know what to say to him. Should I be warning him off you, or telling him to give you another chance?"

He didn't answer for a while, let the waitress bring both their coffees over and meticulously added three level spoonfuls of sugar, a couple of drops of milk, and stirred vigorously to make sure it was all mixed in. He didn't have a clue how to go about answering her question – stunned at the way she had pretty much summed up his internal battle in one short sentence.

"He should keep away. If he knows what's good for him."

Anne watched him, saw how it had physically pained him to say those words, and she didn't buy it, didn't believe a word he was saying.

"I don't think you believe that, do you?"

Brendan flinched his head and smiled up at her, "Well, it doesn't really matter what you think, does it, princess?"

Anne broke into a false smile and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"Is that how you talk to all the girls?" she asked in her sweetest sugary voice.

"You're funny," he dead-panned back at her, not a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Your face is funny," she replied sarcastically, "I mean, don't get me started on the 'tache, how Eighties is that? Did Topshop have to consult you when they started plastering taches over all their clothes and jewellery, you must have been the only guy still sporting one before they brought it back in fashion?"

"I brought it back in fashion myself, thank ye, princess," Brendan sparked back with a glint in his eye, "I mean, have you seen how good it looks on me?"

"Ha, arrogant, much?" Anne laughed back at him.

"It's not arrogance when ye look _this _good, Anne," Brendan told her as if he believed every word, "It's just the truth."

Anne swallowed as she shook her head, smiling slightly as she looked away. She wouldn't win this one.

"You can't even handle the truth," she muttered under her breath, not quite sure if she wanted Brendan to hear her or not.

He had heard, and he had gotten her drift straight away. It had unsettled him again, brought the reality of it all back to him, and he returned his gaze to his half empty coffee cup.

"I can see why you and Steven get on," he muttered quietly.

Anne fixed her gaze back on the Irishman, ready now for the serious part of their chat.

"Why's that?" she asked.

"Because you ain't afraid to speak yer minds," Brendan replied.

"And you like that about _Steven _do you?" Anne asked, fully aware of the suggestion behind her question.

Brendan paused as he considered his answer. There were a lot of things he liked about Steven. More things he was learning about everyday. His toned, golden body; his endless, thick lashes; the way his smile travelled right up to his eyes every time; the unsettling roar of his donkey laugh; the way he had fought back that night on the beach, stood his ground; the feel of his lips against his own, so soft and responsive; the way his expression came alive as the orgasm ripped through him last night, his moans unrelenting as Brendan played him in fine tune. And his ability to speak his mind? Yeah, Brendan like that about him too.

"You're smirking," Anne observed, and Brendan felt the smile fall from his lips – a smile he hadn't even been aware he had been sporting.

"Am not," Brendan denied.

"You are, Brendan," Anne pushed again, her features softening as she joined up the dots in her head. "You really like him, don't you?"

Brendan swallowed hard, trying to rid the lump that had formed in his throat. Was there even any point denying it to this girl? Yes he did, he really liked Steven. He more than really liked Steven. What did that make him? He didn't even want to think about the meaning behind it.

Anne watched his expression and it told her all she needed to know.

"What were you thinking about telling him?" she asked, "When you were outside the flat, why were you there?"

"I dunno," Brendan replied weakly, the truth zapping his strength away from him, "Sorry, I guess."

"Do you think that's enough?" Anne pushed him, "You're a married man, with a _wife. _He's confused as hell, Brendan. He's new to this. He's tough, he'll put up a fight and argue his way out of anything, but he'll never show you, he'll never say how he's scared, unsure of everything that's happening. But he is."

Brendan listened to her. He wasn't somebody that often listened, but there was something about this pocket rocket of a female that made him believe everything she told him. He respected her, and respect meant a hell of a lot in the world Brendan came from.

"What should I do?" Brendan asked weakly, the idea of him asking someone for help seeming completely alien to him. He couldn't remember the last time it had even happened.

"You need to sort your own head out, first," Anne advised him, knew it was Brendan with the problem and not Ste. "You need to make sure this is what you really want, and you need to be honest with yourself, and then you need to be honest with Ste. He'll forgive you for a lot – he's like that – but he won't forgive you if you keep pushing him away like you did last night. It's the rejection that's killing him, Brendan."

Everything she was saying rang true to him – it was as if she had climbed inside his mind and straightened things out for him. He wanted to find some way to thank her, and he vowed that he would do so before the week was out.

He downed the rest of his cup of coffee and went to reach for his wallet.

"No, I'll get it," Anne told him as she pulled five euros from her purse and stood up to pay the waitress with it.

They walked out of the café together and headed back to the hotel in silence.

"Thank ye," Brendan managed to muster up as they went to part ways outside the lobby entrance, "For the coffee. And for, y'know..."

Anne smiled back at him and nodded reassuringly.

"Just think about what I said, yeah," she smiled, walking away after seeing him nod his head in agreement, and Brendan returned to the beach to work over his thoughts once more.

-s-

It was mid-afternoon before Ste managed to get himself up and dressed, just in time to get to work and get the coach to the airport to collect the new arrivals. The journey was long and hot, no air conditioning allowed on the coaches until the customers were on board, and as much as he tried, he couldn't catch up on the sleep he missed the night before. The flight they were waiting to greet was delayed, and Ste found himself lost in his thoughts, checking his phone constantly, losing all of his will power in trying to resist the Irishman. He wanted him now more than ever, now that he hadn't seen or heard from him all day, but had thought of nothing else, and he wondered whether he should try and find some excuse to go up to his room when he got back to the hotel.

The flight finally arrived, and Ste plastered on his usual enthusiasm for the new arrivals, not letting the mask slip despite the turmoil that was going on behind it. He was thankful for the cool air when the driver finally agreed to turn the air con on, and begrudgingly encouraged people to leave the driver a tip, as was the company policy, despite knowing he had done nothing to earn it today.

When he arrived into Reception, before taking each of the guests up to their rooms, Tonio on the front desk called him over.

"Hey, there, señor," Tonio smiled, his Mediterranean accent making everything seem light and easy, "You looking tired, today, Ste."

"Yeah, thanks, Tonio," Ste smiled back awkwardly, "Didn't sleep well."

"Too hot, eh, for your pasty English bones, yea?" Tonio joked, but quickly sensed Ste wasn't in the mood for it with the tired disinterested smile he shot back at him. "Look, Ste, I meant to say, we been getting phone calls here, every day."

Ste looked at him questioningly – he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't heard the hotel phone ringing off the hook during the day, so wondered what was so special that Tonio had to tell him about it now.

Tonio clocked his confusion and explained himself, "I mean, we been getting strange calls, one or two every day, all asking for same person. But they don't know his room number so we say nothing."

"Who they askin' for?" Ste questioned.

"Mr Brady," Tonio confirmed, "He's the guy with the..." Tonio trailed off as he smoothed his finger and thumb over his top lip.

"The moustache," Ste confirmed, his heart skipping a beat and worry suddenly flooding through him, "Yeah that's Mr Brady. What do they want?"

"I don't know, like I say, they call, they say _Mr Brady please _and we say _What room is he in _and sometimes they hang up then, sometimes they get angry and say they must speak to him, and we ask for their name and they won't give it," Tonio explained, "But we don't tell them he is staying here. If they no have room number, we do not tell them he is here, company policy, you see."

Ste was nodding now, strangely thankful to the old man for being such a stalwart when it came to the rules, for once.

"He in trouble, Ste?" Tonio asked, concerned.

"I don't know, T, but I'll let him know," Ste confirmed, smiling as he realised this would give him an excuse to go up to his room, "Make sure everyone knows not to tell them he's here, though, yeah?"

"Of course, señor," Tonio confirmed, nodding at Ste as he passed him the details of the first new arrivals, which Ste promptly went off to greet and show to their new room.

-s-

After spending a couple of hours ushering the new arrivals into their rooms, and sorting out the inevitable issues which always arose with the newbies – towels needed, extra pillows needed, missing suitcases etc – he made his way back to Reception, passing through the hotel bar on his way.

As he walked through, he couldn't help but glance around the room, into the far corner where the Brady's had sat the other day. They weren't in their usual seat, but as he rounded the corner towards the far door, he saw the four of them sitting there, Eileen fussing over the boys and Brendan clicking repeatedly at the button on his phone, as if he was waiting for something to come through.

Ste tried to walk past them unnoticed, against all of his instincts, but Eileen glanced up and saw him, her face breaking into an effortless smile as she called him over.

"Hi, Ste," she beamed up at him, "How are ye?"

"Yeah, alright, thanks," Ste replied, casting a furtive glance in Brendan's direction, and saw him looking back at him sheepishly. He wasn't sure that _sheepish _was something Brendan did very often – it certainly didn't seem to suit him – but he had to admit it was melting the ice around his heart rather quickly.

"We're off on our Egypt cruise tomorrow," Eileen told him, "You're so excited, aren't ye, kids?"

Dec and Paddy looked up at Ste nervously, still unsure of him, and he smiled back at them as they nodded.

"Yeah, we're gonna have a great time, ain't we?" Ste tried to sound excited.

"You're going too?" Brendan asked, picking up on the _we _Ste had just used, his words now filled with regret.

"Yeah," Ste confirmed, "Me and Anne take it in turns to oversee it. It's my turn."

Brendan looked away and cast his eye downwards, and even Ste couldn't misconstrue the look of disappointment that had so clearly flashed across his face. He was sure he heard him mutter something under his breath, but couldn't make it out.

"So where do we meet then?" Eileen asked, oblivious to the stolen glances between Ste and her husband.

"Tomorrow afternoon, two forty-five, in the hotel lobby," Ste advised, "And make sure you pack everything you need for a couple of days – don't forget seasickness pills if you need them."

"Sounds great, we're really looking forward to it," Eileen carried on.

Ste stood and nodded as she chatted away, sure he could hear her going on about the pyramids and the sphinx and Tutankhamen's tomb, but he wasn't focusing on that. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Brendan; the way he had almost shrunk into himself, as if the news Ste had just dealt about the cruise was physically hurting him. He was sure it couldn't just be the thought of two days away from Ste that was causing this response, but he wasn't sure what else it could be either.

He urged Brendan to look at him, and as if he could read his thoughts, his eyes locked onto Ste's straightaway. So much was said between the two of them in that moment. It was mere seconds in reality, but between the two of them it felt like a lifetime. The memories of the night before flooded Ste's mind, his face wanting to smile at the intensity of it all, and his dick turning half hard as the blood rushed through his body.

He could hear Eileen still, as if she was some faint noise, someone talking to him through a window pane, and he was smiling along, but her words weren't quite reaching him. His mouth felt dry, his heart thumping in his chest as the Irishman continued to hold his gaze, seemed just as reluctant to pull away as Ste was himself.

"Are – are you coming, Brendan?" Ste asked, sure he could have interrupted Eileen mid-sentence, but he needed to say something, to hear Brendan's voice. He coughed when he realised what he had said, would have laughed if he hadn't been so caught up in it all, so involved in the moment, the electricity charging between them. "I mean – I mean the cruise, are you coming on the cruise?" he corrected himself.

He knew the answer – had been there when Eileen had booked it and knew it was just her and the kids – but it had been all he could think of to ask.

"No," Brendan responded, his voice weaker and more raspy than usual, and he coughed to try to regain some of his usual strength, "No, not really my thing, all those...dead people," he sneered.

"Oh rite," Ste said back, his eyes still locked on the Irishman's, and it felt like the most pathetic thing Ste had ever said.

"I prefer things with a bit more...life in them," Brendan added, the playful glint returning to his eye, hoping Ste would pick up on it, "Y'know what I mean, Steven?"

Ste couldn't speak, was struck momentarily dumb with the way his own name had sounded like pure sex rolling off Brendan's tongue. He swallowed hard as he tried to shake himself out of it.

"Yeah," Ste let out weakly, sounding more pathetic and needy than he ever had done before, "Me too, I suppose."

Brendan winked at him, and Ste wanted to launch himself back at him. He wasn't sure if it was to hit him for being so assuming, for thinking Ste would be won over again with a cheeky one-liner and a secret wink; or if he just wanted to jump his bones, right there and then, in front of everyone, to feel that incredible intensity of the Irishman's touch over his body once more, rest of the world be damned.

He had to pull himself away, before either of the above actually happened.

"Anyway, best get back to work," Ste smiled, more for Eileen's benefit than for Brendan's, and she smiled and said her goodbyes in response.

As he walked away, Ste added a slight swagger to his walk, sure there would be one pair of eyes watching him leave, and he was sure he could guess which part of his body Brendan's eyes would be fixed on.

He had barely left the hotel bar when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. The name flashed up – _Your New Favourite Person –_ and despite himself, Ste couldn't help but smile.

_Can I see you?_

Ste pursed he lips and tried to hold back the tidal wave of sass that was threatening to erupt in response. Had he been face to face with the Irishman, he had no doubt he would have unleashed it all over him, but he wasn't sure he could quite portray how pissed off he had been this morning in text format, even less so as their meeting had just softened him up slightly. Writing had never been his strong point, anyway, so he opted for the less-is-more approach.

_Why?_

The response took longer than it had done the other day. Ste wondered whether Brendan was sitting there, trying to come up with some excuse, or something witty, or something that might resemble an apology for leaving him completely high and not-so-dry in the office last night.

His phone buzzed again in his hand.

_Because I want to see you._

Ste felt his hackles rise slightly at that comeback. He wasn't even trying to apologise. This must just be what happened in Brendan Brady's little world – people did things because he wanted them to. Well Ste vowed right there and then to be different.

_U just gonna run off agen tho?_

He knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't resist. He wouldn't be Steven Hay if he didn't have an attitude, and Brendan seemed like the best person to try it out on right now.

_No._

Well, Brendan was nothing if not direct, Ste supposed.

_I promise I won't. I need to see you before you go off tomorrow._

Double texts again, although this time it seemed a lot more like an apology of sorts instead of flirting.

Ste made him sweat. He wasn't sure if he wanted to do this – Brendan seemed messed up. He wasn't sure it should really be this difficult, not this soon in. He was nowhere close to figuring out how he felt about this man, and he was sure he wouldn't get to the bottom of it by the time he flew home next week. He had to ask himself why the hell he was bothering with it all.

He knew the answer, though. He shook his head and cursed his own weakness when it came to the Irishman.

_Antonio's Bar, in the centre. 8pm?_

Brendan's reply was instant.

_See you there, Steven._

Ste couldn't deny the lump that formed in his throat, imagined the Irishman saying his name like that, and it made him smile wickedly – a smile he found he didn't want to suppress, this time.

He returned back to his flat with a slight spring in his step, and after a short nap and a long shower, followed by a good half hour choosing what to wear and styling his hair into that effortless looking quiff he seemed to have perfected, Ste left the flat and headed into the centre to meet Brendan.

He was nervous – something about tonight felt a lot like progress with the Irishman. After what had happened the night before, a line had been crossed, and it was a line that meant going for a drink with just the two of them felt like more important than _just _a drink now. He wouldn't go so far as to say it was a date – god knows Brendan didn't seem the type to ever go on a _date _with another man – but it seemed important, somehow. It was important to him that Brendan had asked, and he hoped he could get some answers out of him. Either that or a repeat of what had happened the night before, without the awkward desertion at the end of it.

He was walking the familiar route into the centre, down the quiet residential streets, and he started to feel a little uneasy. He had taken this path many times, often by himself or just with Anne, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. He thought he heard footsteps, but turned to see nobody around. A stray cat jumped off a wall to his left and made him jump slightly, then laugh and shake his head. He must be imagining things.

He carried on walking into the centre, his mind in overdrive as he started over-thinking about what he wanted out of the night. He knew deep down what he really wanted – he wanted Brendan to give him a reason to beg Anne to swap the Egypt cruise with him. And he knew, after the way he had reacted in the bar earlier, he knew Brendan wanted him to stay. He also knew it wouldn't take much to get Anne to give in – she enjoyed it so much more than he did – and he could just return the favour the next week without any hassle. All he would have to do was ask, really.

But he wasn't going to stick his neck out and make the changes if Brendan wasn't even prepared to ask him, to even suggest it to him. He needed to know how important it was to Brendan that he stayed, so he decided tonight would be his chance. If Brendan showed him what it meant to him, then he would show him the same in return by getting Anne to swap.

With that decision made, Ste was just about to round the corner to head out onto the main street through the resort centre, when he became aware of footsteps behind him, moving quickly and getting louder as they closed in. He tried to turn to face towards them but he was slow, too slow, and suddenly there was a warm, sweaty palm across his mouth, stifling his screams, and another arm reaching around from behind him and pulling in against his neck, choking him. Another body moved in front of him, and there was that all too familiar pain in his ribs, the crunching of a fist against his skinny bones. Once, twice, and a third time, and he felt his body double over in agony, his legs giving in beneath him, physical pain coursing through his body from the beating, made worse by the repressed memories of the beatings he had suffered in times gone by.

He tried to kick out, to fight back, but there were two of them and only one of him and he had no chance – outnumbered, outwitted, outplayed.

Something about it confused Ste – the pain, he recognised – but the reasons seemed odd. He had been jumped in a fairly decent part of the resort, and the two men didn't seem overly keen on taking his possessions. They were more concerned with leaving him broken, to the point where Ste genuinely worried for his life – their punches intending to physically harm, and not just to maim. After he was suitably incapacitated they reached inside his pocket and took his wallet and phone, but it seemed to Ste to be more of an afterthought.

As he fell to the floor, the first attacker finally letting go of his vice like grip around his neck, and the two of them sauntering off as if they hadn't just left him in the middle of the road bloodied and bruised, he heard the one speak to the other and it all became clear to Ste what had just happened.

"Don't get why Danny gave us such an easy target," the one attacker had said.

And Ste realised – this wasn't a mugging. It was a warning.

_**Please review as always, your words brighten up my day! **_

_**PS: If any of you regular reviewers have a tumblr, let me know who you are so I can thank you personally on there :)**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**First of all, as always, thank you all for your reviews/follows/favourites and for reading.**_

_**Secondly, I apologise that I realised I lied to you a few chapters back when I said I would be updating more regularly, because I haven't exactly been doing so – I promise you I am getting the updates out as fast as I can!**_

_**Thirdly, I love reading your theories on what's gonna happen next, but I should warn you – Steven isn't quite as innocent in this story :) he has his own past which might just be catching up with him...lol**_

_**Anyway, here's Day 8 Part 2. I have a feeling you might enjoy this one... ;)**_

Day Eight Part 2

Brendan checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time that day, an obsession he seemed to have developed over the course of the past 24 hours, which he was blaming solely on one person. An empty screen greeted him – no calls, no messages – and the time read precisely 8.35pm.

He had bought two San Miguels, one for himself and one for Steven, but after sitting and waiting for the boy for a while he had finished his own, and decided to start on the other. If he was going to get stood up, he may as well get drunk to numb the embarrassment.

He wondered whether this was some form of punishment on Steven's behalf – payback for the way he had left him yesterday. He wouldn't blame him if it was – it seemed like something the Manc would pull across him, trying to teach him a lesson. It wasn't something Brendan would let most people get away with, his reputation being none-too- forgiving when it came to things like this, but he had already broken his own rules for the sake of this enigma of a man who somehow made his way inside, and he didn't have the energy to try to pay him back. The memory of Steven's face that night on the beach, when he had hit him – the pain that had flashed through his eyes, the kind that Brendan found all too familiar at the time – he couldn't bear to see that again.

Steven was fast turning into his weakness, and the more he knew about the lad, the less he found himself caring about his own rules anymore.

The music in the bar he was in, and the other bars around him, was starting to get louder now. It was nearing 9pm and the scene around the resort centre was starting to change. From his table outside, looking out over the main street, he could see the families and kids starting to make their way back home, replaced with younger couples and groups of teenagers, reps from the bars dragging them with promises of free shots and cheap fishbowls.

It wasn't the kind of scene Brendan liked being a part of, not on this side of the bar anyway. He owned part of a nightclub back in England and much preferred being the one to exploit the binge drinking generation as they wasted their money on liquid poison, sitting back and watching the profits roll in as their student loans evaporated. The club also served as a useful base for his other businesses – the ones which he couldn't exactly profess to be on the right side of the law; the ones that had forced him to drag his family away at the drop of a hat to keep them safe.

He didn't want to think about that now, though. His head was bowed already, thoughts of Steven sitting back at his flat with Anne, laughing about how they'd got one over on him, how they'd got inside his head and made him feel this way, then stood him up like he was nobody.

He tried to ignore the anger that was rising through him – tried desperately to keep it hidden, to suppress the need to go and defend himself, let Steven know he hadn't won. But he couldn't do it again, didn't ever want to be that person for Steven again, despite it all. He couldn't be the one to make him re-live that pain.

He glugged back the rest of the second pint and checked his phone for the last time. It was 9.15pm, the music was thumping now, the disco lights had started flashing from inside the bar, and from the other bars surrounding him, and he decided to call it a night. He watched a group of girls sauntering down the road, as if they were in Sex and the City, and he struggled to suppress his laughter when one of them stumbled on their ridiculously high heels. He felt an unfamiliar wave of smugness pass over him when he realised it was the group of girls staying at his hotel – the one's who had fawned so obviously over Steven around the pool the other day – and he smiled to himself, knowing he'd had what all of them wanted. He'd had Steven.

He shook his head and cursed himself once more. He _had _had Steven. But he didn't anymore. He had lost him – through his own stupid fault, through his own backwards inability to accept himself the way he was – he had lost the only thing that had made him feel truly alive in years. He picked up his phone and tried calling him, heard it ring twice then go straight to voicemail – he was cancelling his calls.

He didn't feel so smug anymore.

He paid the barman and left, trying to keep his head held high as if he hadn't just been stood up by the one person he was starting to truly care about. He had an uneasy feeling in his gut, however. He couldn't quite place it – he knew he should feel ashamed, or angry, or upset, or disappointed that Steven hadn't shown up – but it wasn't just that. He _did _feel all those things, sure, but there was something else. Something that was making him _worried, _for no explicable reason. As if he knew something was wrong.

He shook the thought from his head and wandered mindlessly back down the route he had walked in on a couple of hours earlier, vowing to work his way back into Steven's good books one way or another, if it was the last thing he did.

-s-

Ste felt the throbbing pain in his ribs before he had fully woken up. He had been vaguely aware of his mind fluttering in and out of consciousness, yet each time he had come close to opening his eyes, the pain had coursed through him and he had given in to the weakness once again.

He rolled over now, sharp pain shooting up around his ribs, gravel from the road scratching over his face, coughing on the blood that ran from his split lip into his mouth.

He groaned heavily, fought back the tears that threatened to fall, had been in this position enough times to know they would be of no use to him. He shuffled over and lifted himself up onto the kerb, sitting there alone, doubled over in pain, and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

They'd taken his phone and his wallet, sure, but that hadn't been the reason he'd been jumped. His attackers had mentioned Danny as they'd left, and he knew what that meant.

Danny Houston had found him.

It was time for him to pay back that favour.

-s-

Brendan made his way up the quiet streets back to the hotel. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, cast his eyes to the ground and meandered along, contemplating his next move with Steven. He desperately wanted to convince him to stay with him instead of going on the cruise, but he couldn't just ask him to do that, could he? He couldn't just ask him to stay with him, he didn't know if he would. Didn't know if Steven cared enough to change things around for him. Why would he, after all? After the way Brendan had treated him?

He saw a figure in the distance stumbling as he tried to stand, clearly struggling, and assumed it was some party-goer after too many Sambucas. He crossed the road to avoid walking too close, hearing a groan coming from the man's direction and he almost didn't look over; didn't want to drag himself into that awkward moment where he would have to look in his eyes as he walked away from him because Brendan wasn't the kind of person to nurse some deadbeat teen through their hangover. Someone else would be along in a little while anyway.

He glanced a quick look over though as he passed, and that was when he noticed the blood. A small puddle of it in the middle of the road, a couple of feet from where the lad stood now, a few specks leading up to him. He felt a pang of humanity surface from somewhere deep within, and took a second to look over his injuries, just as a precaution.

And that's when he realised.

"Shit, Steven," he cried out as he ran towards him, felt as if he had been hit in the chest, realisation that he was hurt, really hurt, and he had been about to walk on and leave him there.

"Steven, what happened to ye?" Brendan pleaded, heart all of a sudden racing as he stood before him, strong hands grabbing onto Steven's arms, almost encircling them completely as he shook him slightly, tried to impress on him the urgency to know what had broken his boy.

"Brendan?" Steven asked quietly, surprised that the Irishman was here, half thinking it must be an hallucination.

He lifted his face up, Brendan casting his eyes over Steven's once delicate and now broken features, his expression filled with regret and desperation, and what he saw made something inside of him ache. Stevens face was bloody, a cut to his lip and two more on his cheek and his eyebrow, sharp red of his blood trickling from each wound, could see more blood than flesh on him and he wanted to kiss it all away, wanted to brush away the specks of gravel ingrained into the side of his cheeks which grazed his once flawless skin. Steven was holding his ribs, doubled over in pain and Brendan knew his face wasn't the full extent of his injuries. He wanted to hold him, to take all the pain away, to absorb all of it into his own body and to erase all memories of Steven's injuries from his mind; to tell him everything was going to ok. But he knew full well that he had never been able to promise that to anyone.

His mind worked in overdrive. What the hell had happened to him? He tried asking, stood there with him in the road, holding him at a distance at first and then pulling him into his arms, asking him W_ho did this _and W_hat happened _and W_ho would want to hurt you like this, Steven_. Steven didn't answer him, just stood there in silence, as if he was asking himself the same questions. This wasn't just a mugging – Brendan had been part of enough of those, had even dished them out himself in days gone by, and he knew this was more. He didn't know who Steven had pissed off enough to warrant this treatment, but he vowed to find them and let them know Steven had protection now. If they messed with him, they messed with Brendan Brady too.

"Hey, Steven, look at me," Brendan begged as he pulled out of their embrace, worried by the lack of Steven's arms around him, relieved to see he was still responsive when he stood before him, still a little dazed.

"Steven, stay with me, yeah," he pleaded.

"Bren," Steven coughed, mouth filled with the taste of the metal tang from his cut lip, lifting his forefinger to his lips and pulling it away to see the colour of his blood, before he looked back at Brendan and continued slowly, almost painfully, "Bren, I'm sorry. About the drink."

"Sshh, it's ok, Steven," Brendan stopped him, felt the sudden urge to just wrap him up in bubble wrap, to keep him hidden away from the reality of what had happened to him, "Ye don't ever have to apologise to me, Steven. It's ok."

He pushed the fringe back from Steven's face and looked into his eyes, the boy looking back at him with something that looked so much like awe it caught Brendan unawares, and he couldn't stop the smile that lifted the sides of his lips. Steven returned it instinctively, as if to see Brendan's smile was all the tonic he needed, as if he could feel his injuries healing just at the sight of it. They stood there for a few moments, basking in each others nervous apprehension, neither of them having anything close to the amount of strength required to pull apart from each other, until it became so ridiculous even Steven laughed. He felt intoxicated on the Irishman, felt as if he could do anything under the power of his gaze – could move heaven and earth and take on the world and would gladly do it all if the reward were just a few more moments with this man before him. It was dangerous ground – he was so much more than infatuated with this man – and it used all his remaining strength to stifle the incessant whining of the devil on his shoulder, reminding him that this could never be a permanent move, that he shouldn't be getting this far involved with someone like this. That he would only end up getting hurt.

He muted it, though – ignored the warning and let himself grow dizzy with the power this man wielded over him.

"You think you can walk back?" Brendan asked him tentatively, reluctant to pull either of them out of the intensity of that moment, but all too aware that Steven's attackers were nearby and he needed to get the boy out of sight, out of harms way, and back in the safety of the hotel.

Steven snapped out of his daze and assessed his injuries. He was sure he may have broken a rib, and his face and thighs felt saw and bruised, but he nodded, gritting his teeth as he prepared himself for the oncoming pain as he took the first few steps forward.

"Woah, woah, steady, let me help," Brendan pleaded as he took Steven's weight, let him lean into him, felt him against his body, light as a feather, wincing himself as he saw the lad struggle. He went to pick him up, to carry him back to the hotel, but Steven shrugged him off.

"Get off," he snapped playfully, "I'm not dying, alright, and I don't need you carrying me like a woman."

Brendan let him go and smiled to himself – as long as his sass was still there, he knew Steven would be ok. He loved his feisty side after all.

"Just let me help," Brendan offered, taking Steven's left arm and draping it around his shoulder for support, slipping his hand around his waist at the same time, "Lean on me, yeah?"

Steven coughed and did as he was told, finding comfort in the strength of the Irishman's muscles surrounding him, smiling to himself as he felt the tickle of his fingers in that sensitive spot down his side, by his waist. He felt a little light headed as he made his first steps forward, wasn't so sure it was a result of his injuries but more do with the intoxicating scent of this _man _that was protecting him now, caring for him.

His legs were fine, and he found it easier to walk that he had first thought he would, but he still leant his body up against Brendan's as if his own strength wouldn't be enough for him. He enjoyed being close to him, feeling the heat of his torso against his side, the stability of his arm around him, the tenderness of his fingers as they touched him. They walked back mainly in silence, save for the odd groan when Steven tried to walk a little too quickly and his ribs reminded him to take his time.

They reached the hotel and Brendan guided them in through the pool area and into the door just beside the lift rather than through the main entrance, hoping to avoid any of Ste's colleagues on Reception. The lift opened straightaway and he ushered Ste inside, following him quickly and repeatedly pressing the button for his floor, willing the doors to close.

"You ashamed of me, Brady?" Ste asked with a grin spread across his face, noticing how quickly Brendan had ushered him into the lift.

Brendan tensed up at Ste's words – at how they had unwillingly hit the sensitive spot inside his psyche. His weakness. Except it wasn't _Steven _he was ashamed of, not really. It was himself, and his complete inability to resist this boy stood beside him now.

He felt the urge to lash out, to shut Steven up, to take back the power because how dare he joke about it – how dare he treat it so lightly. How _could _he? He felt all of his irrational tendencies bubbling to the surface, his demons taunting him, heard the words of his father inside his head, telling him how he was a _dirty, little queer_, about how he wasn't a _real man _because he was too soft, too sensitive, not willing to fight like a man.

He fought with himself, though – fought away the rage that threatened to erupt because he couldn't do that to Steven, couldn't possibly add to the pain he was already in, would feel sick to the very pit of his stomach if it had been him to make Steven this broken – this flawed. He watched as Steven tried to lean back against the side of the lift, flinching with the impact as his bruised body connected too heavily with the hard surface, pain from his injuries still raw, and Brendan felt all his pent up rage and anger dissipate within that split second, replaced only with concern.

"Hey, careful," he soothed as he placed his arm around Steven's shoulder, watching the smile draw out across his face as he brought his weakened body closer, drawing him in and feeling the urge to build a wall up around the two of them, to close them both off from the dangers of the world around them; from the eyes of those who shouldn't see it all.

He had experienced that feeling before, many times. But he knew this was the first time he had ever wanted to build those walls with someone else on the _inside_.

He smiled at the warmth that thought brought to him.

The lift door pinged open and Brendan coughed, awakening himself from their bubble as he ushered Steven out and along the short distance to his room. He swiped the key quickly and opened the door, relieved to be greeted with darkness, confirming Eileen must still be out with the boys. He flicked on a few lights and guided Steven into the bathroom, shocked to see the full extent of Steven's injuries in full under the harsh lighting.

"Where's Eileen?" Ste asked tentatively, memory of Brendan's rejection at the sound of her name still raw in his mind from the night before.

"Still out with the kids, I think," Brendan answered evenly, eyes darting over the injuries he could see, wished he could make them disappear.

He picked up a hand towel from beside the sink and rinsed it through with warm water, the slow trickle of the water being the only sound piercing the heightened silence in the room, the two of them with so many questions, for each other and for the world as a whole.

"Sit down," Brendan ordered as he nodded towards the side of the bath, "Let me clean you up."

Ste did as he was told after only a slight hesitation. Brendan looked unnatural in this mode, not the kind of person that would usually be cleaning up the bloody aftermath of such an attack. Ste figured he was much more likely to be the one dishing out these injuries. He was fascinated by the thought that someone so feared; so renowned for their violence; so respected in the underworld he had come close to being involved in himself; could be gentle enough to ease the pain for him right now.

He flinched back as Brendan pressed a corner of the hot towel against the cut to his eyebrow, eyes travelling up to Brendan's face as he saw the older man flinch with him, as if he was feeling every ounce of pain alongside him. He continued to watch him intently as he nursed him better, wiping away the red stains from his cheeks, gently brushing off the gravel that lay almost ingrained in his cheekbones, the bright white of the towel tainted now with layers of red and pink and black.

Brendan's face was fixed on his, concentrating on the task at hand, taking more care than Ste suspected he had ever known himself capable of, as if the intensity of his gaze could heal the cuts to his skin. Ste stared into Brendan's eyes as he watched them travel over his face – eyebrow, cheekbone, lips – assessing his injuries and looking as if he could feel the pain from them himself.

Ste sensed his face was clean now, and noticed Brendan shift his gaze downwards. He was surprised to feel the Irishman's hand reach for his own, lifting them towards him, palms upwards to inspect them, then picking out the small grains of gravel and wiping them over with the towel.

He turned away and rinsed the towel out, the water running pink now as his blood trickled down the sink. Brendan looked over him again, eyes travelling down to his chest, wanting to see the full extent of his injuries. He reached a hand forward and grazed it gently down from his chest to the hem of his t-shirt, looking into Steven's eyes as if asking permission. Ste nodded back in response, and lifted his arms as Brendan pulled the hem up slowly, exposing the flawless golden skin of his torso and then his chest as he lifted it up and over Steven's head. He dropped the t-shirt behind him, not able to break out of the spell Steven had over him, not able to remove his eyes from Steven's gaze.

"Where does it hurt?" Brendan asked, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

Steven reached out and took Brendan's hand, his own shaking slightly with the rush of nerves that were coursing through him, telling him he shouldn't be doing this, but his body longed for his touch – longed to feel the Irishman's rough skin against his own – and he brought both their hands up against his chest.

"Here," Steven signalled, inhaling sharply as both their hands pressed in against his ribs, half from pain and half from pleasure, and he moved their hands along to the other side of his torso, "And here."

Brendan's eyes left Steven's then, looking now at the bruises that were beginning to form, and then he was dropping to his knees in front of him, shuffling forwards and leaning in against his chest. His whole body sparked into another dimension as he felt the softness of Brendan's lips against his skin, right on the source of his pain in the centre of his ribs, and for a second he actually felt all the pain in his body disappear, a shiver radiating from the spot where the Irishman's lips were meeting his skin and igniting his whole body into life.

Their hands were still joined together, touching the other side of his ribcage where Ste had signalled the second bout of pain was coming from. Steven's other hand found its way to the back of Brendan's head, running his fingers through the short hairs and pulling him closer, consenting to his touch, feeling his breathing increase so rapidly that he could see Brendan's head moving forwards and backwards as his chest did the same.

His kisses were gentle, small, intimate. He could feel the brush of his tongue when his lips were pressed fully against him, could feel the rush of cold as his mouth travelled across from one side of his chest to the other and left little patches of moistness on his skin. Ste wondered if Brendan had ever been this gentle before, struggled to correlate this image of him now, knelt before him as he worshipped his body, with the image of him on the beach last week, and in the office last night.

This was the Brendan he was falling for.

When he had covered the skin over his injuries, kissed both his aching ribs back to life, his lips worked upwards, up over his chest, grazing over his nipple, Steven's body jerking at the sensation and he was sure he felt a smile from Brendan's mouth against his chest, loving how responsive he was. Ste rolled his neck to allow Brendan a clearer path upwards, incapable of stifling the moan that escaped him because this was pure pleasure – this was intimacy more than he had ever known; this was longing and needing and heightened sensations that his body had never experienced.

Brendan's lips worked slowly, agonisingly, up that sensitive line from his shoulder, up his neck to his ear lobe, then down along his jaw until he felt the tug at his bottom lip, the suction of Brendan's mouth as he kissed him. Once, twice, almost a third time, before he pulled away. Steven leant forwards instinctively, desperate for more, begging with his mouth, pleading with the way he threw himself into another kiss, had never felt so wanton before, but he needed this.

Brendan pulled back again though, and Ste feared the worse.

But when he opened his eyes, it wasn't rage or regret clouding over his lovers face – it was concern. Brendan's eyes were inspecting his injuries again, and Ste noticed him swallow down hard before lifting a hand to his face, tracing a path from one wound to the next.

"Who did this to ye Steven?" Brendan asked eventually, as if he couldn't hold the question in any longer.

Ste looked straight to the ground, his hesitation speaking volumes. He didn't want to talk about this – not even sure he was capable of constructing words right now – and he wasn't sure he was ready for Brendan to know about his past. He couldn't explain one thing without the other.

"Don't know," Steven answered, brushing the question aside as he leant back into the Irishman, trying to steal another kiss.

Brendan pulled away from him again, wanted the boy so fucking much right now, but _needed _to know who could hurt him like this even more.

"What d'ye mean ye don't know?" he asked abruptly.

Steven leant in for another kiss, trying to brush his questions aside once more, but it was fruitless. Brendan was having none of it, looking back at him expectantly, waiting for his question to be answered.

"It was no-one, alright, just leave it," Ste pleaded in return.

Brendan laughed and pulled his hands away from where they had lain against Steven's hips, shuffling backwards to pull himself away from Steven's grasp.

"You're lying."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement – Brendan could see it in his eyes, could read him better than he had ever been able to read anyone.

"I'm not," Ste shot back, his defensiveness doing nothing to disprove Brendan's accusation, "Just leave it, yeah."

"I know you're lying," Brendan snapped back, impatience growing inside him now, "Just tell me who it was."

"It doesn't matter who it was, right, they made their point," Ste argued back.

The almost-admission made Brendan flinch, the idea that someone would have a point to make to his Steven, and that they would need to make it _like this _was almost too much to bear.

"Steven, tell me who did this," he asked, his anger morphing ever so slightly into fear now, his pitch heightening with each word.

Ste exhaled sharply, wanted the Irishman to just drop this now because he wasn't ready to drop that bombshell on him just yet.

"Why does it matter, Brendan?"

"It matters because they could have killed ye!" Brendan shouted back at him, unable to keep his anxiety in check now, rising to his feet because to stress the importance of this whilst sitting on his knees between the boys legs didn't seem quite right. "It matters because they left you there for dead!"

"But I'm alright, ain't I!" Steven snapped back.

"But what if you weren't Steven? What if they'd -" Brendan cut himself short, his anger subsiding as he choked back the lump forming in his throat, his voice softening as he continued. "What if I hadn't found ye? Huh? I can't – I can't let them -"

"They don't want me dead, Brendan," Ste interrupted, calmer himself now, shocked into submission by the sight of Brendan falling apart before him, "I'm no good to them dead," he added weakly.

Brendan stepped back further, as if he was trying to distance himself from what Steven had just admitted, trying to make the insinuation from his words disappear. He shook his head slightly, face full of concern now as his heart started to race. He wouldn't let anyone hurt this boy. He couldn't let anyone take him away now.

"What's that meant to mean, Steven?" Brendan asked, struggling to keep his emotions in check, aware that his anxiety came across as irritation when really all he wanted was to protect this beautiful creature before him, the idea of him in danger making his body run cold. "What are you involved in?"

Ste rubbed his face with his hands.

"I'm not _involved _in anything, ok?"

"So who's trying to hurt ye?" Brendan flipped back, urgency to his tone like Ste had never heard before.

"I just – I just owe someone, that's all," Ste explained, trying to get away with revealing as little as possible.

"You need money? How much to you need?" Brendan offered, as if it was some instinctive reaction, as if he was willing to give up everything he had just to stop anyone hurting a single hair on this boys head.

Steven was taken aback by his offer, laughing half at the audacity of it and half through confusion as to why Brendan would be so willing to give him money, if it had been that he had needed.

"It's not money I owe," Ste replied cautiously, desperate now to change the subject and move on. "It's a favour, ok? But I'll sort it, Brendan. Now can you just leave it, yeah?"

"What kind of a favour?" Brendan pressed further.

"Just leave it, Brendan!" Ste snapped, tired of the incessant questions when he clearly didn't want to discuss this with Brendan right now.

"I can't," Brendan confessed, "I can't -"

"Why do you care so much anyway?" Ste butted in, couldn't listen to anymore of his words, couldn't sit there and listen to him pretending like any of this mattered to him, like he would really think anything of it if his body had been discovered there lifeless on the pavement. "You're just gonna walk away again, aren't you! It's what you always do isn't it?"

Ste was ready to unleash it all on him now, ready to take out all that anger, disappointment and confusion from the night before, ready to screw the world because he needed Brendan to know – needed him to _get it_, to get that for Ste this was more than just a drunken kiss in a stolen moment – this was _something _to him, even if he had no idea what that was yet.

"That's not fair," Brendan started, but Ste was fired up now and he wasn't about to let him interrupt.

"No, Brendan!" Ste continued, tone laced with conviction as he stood up to face the Irishman, "What's not fair, Brendan, is doing what you did to me in the office yesterday and then just leaving me there. What's not fair is kissing me the way you just did five minutes ago and making out that you care and then just brushing me aside. What's not fair is you showing me how fucking incredible it can be and then dropping me like I mean nothing, leaving me all on me own and confused as hell just because you can't handle the fact that you're -"

But he couldn't finish his sentence, couldn't get the words out because Brendan had stepped towards him, snaked his hand around the back of his head and was pulling him in, meeting his lips to his own and kissing him. Desperately, passionately, as if the world was about to end; and Ste opened himself up to let him inside, and it felt like he was home again. The heady excitement blurred his brain and let him ignore the flashes of pain that shot through him as he pushed his body up against the Irishman, feeling the release as if Brendan gave him the strength to fight away his injuries; as if his kiss was literally healing him, closing his wounds as he deepened the kiss.

Ste reached his hand around Brendan's back, trailed his fingers tips under the hem of his top, feeling the goosebumps appear over Brendan's skin as he traced along, electricity coursing through him from the touch of his skin; from the knowledge that it was him that was causing the Irishman's body to react like this. He knew then that Brendan felt it too – whatever this was between them, whatever words he used or however he tried to deny it – Brendan was right there with him, in this world they had created between the two of them.

Brendan was pushing him now, mindful of his injuries and gentler than Ste guessed he would otherwise have been, but he still dominated, still exuded this power over Ste that made him feel dizzy, made him weak to his touch, made him acquiesce to Brendan's every whim without question.

Ste felt the cold tiles of the bathroom wall up against his back, groaned into Brendan's mouth as his tongue continued to assault his own, his body more alive than he had ever felt before, and his groans became louder now as Brendan moved his mouth away, trailed kisses down his jaw, along the underside of his neck. He was working his way down, and Ste's breath hitched in his throat as he realised what he was doing, raking his hands through the short hairs at the back of Brendan's head as he worked his way down, short, sweet kisses against his broken body, kissing and sucking and licking his way down, biting down softly on his nipples as he passed them, sending that unfamiliar burst of sensation through Stevens body.

"Fuck, Bren...please," he gasped out as his body begged for more, and Brendan groaned against his skin, appreciation of the noises escaping Steven right now, the vibrations of his lips against Steven's chest making him only cry for more, begging, pleading, couldn't remember ever needing anything more in his entire life.

Brendan moved onto his knees, tenderly kissing his bruises as he passed them, then licked the rest of the way down Stevens body, finding the tip of his treasure trail and groaning with pleasure as he felt the course hairs tickle against the side of his face. He brought his hands up and unbuttoned Stevens jeans, pulled the zip down hastily and tugged on the waistband, bringing his boxers down at the same time and freeing his already rock hard cock from the confines of his clothes.

"So fucking beautiful," Brendan whispered, unable to contain it, powerless to stop himself from worshipping the features of this boy that stood before him, submitting to him, whimpering at the touch of Brendan's kisses as they neared the base of his cock.

"Please...Brendan..." Ste begged, and Brendan couldn't _not _look at him then, needed to see the desperation in the lads eyes, needed to see how much he wanted this, and he wasn't disappointed. The way he looked down at him then, the way their eyes locked together, it was like nothing else mattered besides the two of them, like nothing in the world had ever existed before that moment, and nothing of significance could ever exist again.

"Please," Ste begged again, and Brendan shuddered with the intensity of it, had to give in to him then, couldn't hold out on him for another moment, didn't have the strength to tease him anymore, to hold off on him for a second longer.

Ste flung his head back against the wall as Brendan started, kissing rapidly along the side of his rock solid length, impressed with his size, could easily be the biggest Brendan had ever seen beside his own. He reached the tip and let his tongue flick teasingly against the slit, wanted to drag this out, wanted to make the boy squirm with frustration, wanted him to _need _this more than he had ever needed before, wanted him to beg for it like he wouldn't be able to survive without it, but he couldn't hold himself back, tasted the saltiness of his pre-come against the tip of his tongue and it was like a spark ignited within him. He closed his mouth around him, swallowing him down as far as he could, and fuck if it wasn't the sweetest fucking feeling he'd ever known. Brendan had always been a giver – always been in control, never been dominated. He loved to watch them come apart under his touch, and he wasn't sure he'd ever known anyone look as beautiful as the boy that stood before him now, smiling down at him, looking on in awe as he watched his own cock disappear into Brendan's mouth, working in and out, as if it was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen.

Brendan felt Steven's leg trembling beneath him, snaked his hand around it to steady him, would have smiled with such self-satisfaction if he hadn't had his mouth so full right now.

"Brendan...Oh, god, Bren..." Steven continued, rocking his own hips forwards now, gyrating away as he begged for more, could feel the pressure building within him now, and he wasn't used to this – wasn't used to the intensity of it, to how fucking incredible it could be, to how this man knew exactly how to work him – and he knew he couldn't hold out for long.

"I'm nearly...I'm gonna..." he warned, but Brendan didn't stop, furthered his assault with his mouth, sucked and licked and worked his way up and down, worshipping this thing of beauty before him, pulling away to kiss down the underside whilst bringing his hand up, working at his cock vigorously, desperately, as he looked up into the boys eyes.

"I want you to come in my mouth, Steven," Brendan ordered, needed this now more than ever before, "I want to taste you on me, so fucking sweet," and he watched as Ste nodded back at him, hardly had the energy or the ability to respond.

And with that Brendan returned his mouth to the boy, taking his full length inside him now, feeling him push against the back of his throat as he fought against the reflex. Suddenly Steven was thrusting into him now, Brendan groaning with fucking awe at this boy, at how he took from him, at how he was so submissive and yet so fucking _pushy _when he needed to be; how he begged him now, how he cried out his name and flung his hands against the wall, searching manically for something to grab hold of as his pace quickened, his hips moving incessantly as he screamed out in ecstasy, cried Brendan's name and swore like the fucking world would never hear him, his orgasm tearing through him like a freight train as he came into Brendan's mouth. He drank it all back, the warm, salty taste of this saviour who had quickly become the most incredible boy Brendan had ever known.

Brendan pulled away and looked up at the boy, watched his chest heave desperately as he stood with his head flung back against the wall, smiled as he looked down at him and they both started to laugh, a satisfied, awe-struck laugh, because neither of them could believe what had just happened.

They didn't have chance to bask in it, though – their mutual smiles dropping in the flicker of a second, replaced with panic as they both heard the slide of the keycard in the door, and the click of the door handle opening.

"Shit," Steven whispered as he quickly pulled up his jeans and boxers and did them up, Brendan jumping to his feet straight away and glancing around the room nervously, picking up the bloody hand towel from the side of the sink just as Eileen pushed the bathroom door open.

"Eileen," Brendan greeted her, tried to sound as natural as possible, as if he couldn't still taste Steven's come in his mouth, as if his mind wasn't racing with what she could have walked in on had she returned ten seconds sooner.

"Oh my god, what happened to ye?" Eileen asked in shock as she surveyed Ste's injuries, casting her eyes down over his torso and to the bruises underneath his ribs.

They had both almost forgotten, both confused for a split second as all memory of Stevens attack had been replaced by the intensity of their pleasure in those heated few minutes.

"I, erm, I found him," Brendan started, clearing his throat, pulling himself together because he had been immersed in another world just then and he couldn't let Eileen see how shaken he was, "He got mugged on the, er, on the way to meet for our drink, didn't ye?"

He looked to Steven who sighed with relief and then smiled.

"Yeah, I got jumped," Ste explained to Eileen, flashing Brendan a wicked grin because he knew – knew that Brendan was flustered, that he hadn't even needed to lie about his mugging, but that the older man couldn't concentrate, couldn't correlate the events of the past ten minutes with what was happening now, and he wasn't so composed all of a sudden. Steven cast a glance at his groin, saw the unmistakable bulge in his trousers and stifled a laugh, excitement at the knowledge that it was a result of him being there, of what they had just done.

Eileen didn't notice, thankfully – she was too busy inspecting Ste's injuries, oblivious to the two men behind her smirking at each other like two teenagers caught behind the bike-shed.

"Oh, love, are ye ok?" she asked sympathetically, "These look so painful."

Ste coughed as he regained a little of his own composure.

"Yeah, I'm alright," he reassured her, smirking still at Brendan, "Looks worse than it is. Brendan's looked after me, patched me up. Made everything better, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Brendan smiled back knowingly, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, I've sorted him out, good as new."

"Well, let me get ye a drink or something, steady your nerves, sweet tea or whiskey or anything?" Eileen offered, but Ste couldn't imagine himself being able to stay in this room with Brendan and his wife after what had just happened.

"No, it's fine," he told her politely, "I best get back, get some rest. But thanks, anyway."

He glanced a look across at Brendan, saw the lust in his eyes turn to panic then, as if he the memory of their earlier conversation was working its way through him, and he all of a sudden looked concerned.

"You shouldn't be out on your own," Brendan suggested warily, sensing an opportunity to keep the boy close, and he didn't care how absurd he may have sounded to Eileen, he didn't want him out on his own, not after what he had told him earlier. "Why don't ye stay here tonight, on the sofa bed. Ye shouldn't be out on yer own, Steven."

Ste looked back at him with shock, couldn't believe Brendan was prepared to be so reckless, to suggest something so ridiculous just to keep him safe. Surely he didn't care for him that much?

"Thanks, but, I shouldn't," Ste replied, looking warily between Brendan's hopeful expression and Eileen's increasingly confused one, "It's not exactly professional, is it?"

"Yeah, love," Eileen interrupted, looking at her husband as if he had just sprouted an extra head, "I'm sure Ste just wants to sleep in his own bed tonight, right?"

She couldn't be further from the truth – he wanted nothing more than to sleep in _Brendan's _bed tonight, wanted to feel the safety of the Irishman's arms around him as he slept, but he knew that would never happen and he couldn't exactly suggest that right now.

"Yeah, just wanna get home," Ste lied, smiling apologetically at Brendan as he stood up to leave, picking up his t-shirt and pulling it back over his head, "I best be off, now."

"Ye should get yerself checked out at the hospital, though, Ste," Eileen suggested as she looked at him with concern, a pitying smile covering her face.

"I'll walk ye back," Brendan offered – more insisted – and Ste nodded back at him in agreement.

Brendan went to say goodnight to his kids as Ste said his goodbyes to Eileen, promised to get himself checked out at the hospital and to wake Anne as soon as he got home to tell her what had happened. Eileen insisted he agree to tell the police but he had no intention of doing so – they wouldn't be able to help him. He would have to face Danny eventually.

As Brendan closed the door behind them as they left, they looked between each other and shared an all-knowing smile, Brendan shaking his head in disbelief as he thought back to how close they had been to getting caught.

They walked to the lift in silence, Steven resisting the urge to pounce on him as soon as the lift doors closed, wanted him so badly but knew security would have a field day watching that footage on the CCTV and he wouldn't hear the last of it from the guys on reception. He waited until they had slipped out of the back door and onto the pool area before he broke the silence, checking nobody was around before he spoke.

"That was fucking close," he whispered as he exhaled sharply, a smirk covering his lips which he expected to see returned in Brendan's expression.

The Irishman looked deadpan, however – no hint of amusement in his eyes.

"That was _too _fucking close," he grimaced.

Ste dropped his head, the smile vanishing from his lips as he realised Brendan wasn't feeling the same giddy relief at their near miss as he was – to Steven it looked a lot like shame in Brendan's eyes, and it killed him to think that it was _him _he was ashamed of.

Brendan looked across at him as they continued to walk out of the hotel grounds and onto the main street, side by side, agonisingly close and yet so distant all of a sudden.

"Sorry," Ste let out, so quiet Brendan almost missed it, but the lads words punched him square in the gut.

Brendan saw then what Ste was fearing – that his sudden change of mood was because of him, was the same as what he had done on the beach and in the office, was born out of shame of himself, of Steven, and of what they did to each other. But he was wrong. This was different. Brendan didn't feel the shame – couldn't explain why not, seeing as he always had done before – but all he felt now was regret. Regret that he doubted he could ever give Steven what he truly deserved, that he could ever completely be the man that he wanted him to be.

He wanted to be able to reassure him that he could change, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to the lad, so he offered him a little honesty – the only thing he could muster.

"It's not you, Steven," he admitted, sighing as he spoke, looking up to the stars as if they could light the path for him. "It's just, I dunno, it's just all of it, y'know."

Ste looked back at him, and felt then as if he was seeing a side to Brendan that not many people had ever seen before. If he didn't know better, he would have said he looked scared.

"She hasn't got a clue has she?" Ste asked hesitantly, didn't know if he was pushing it too far.

The both stopped as they reached the point on the road where they had to cross, and Ste waited patiently for Brendan's response.

"She can never know," he finally admitted, swallowing down with what almost felt like an admission – like there was actually _something _that she could never know, and he knew it was the closest he had ever come to admitting that his indiscretions weren't just for revenge, weren't just to pay her back for treating him the way she did; but were something more – something he had no control over. Something he _wanted_.

"Don't you feel...guilty? About lying to her?" Ste continued, still wary of his reaction but aware that Brendan was being more open with him than ever before and he wanted to exploit it.

Brendan sighed, didn't speak until they had crossed the road, and then looked down to the ground and shoved his hands in his pockets before he started to talk.

"It's not...It's not really like that, with us," he admitted, wincing slightly at the honesty he was about to show to this boy he had only known just over a week. It was more than he had ever admitted to anyone in his life.

"It's complicated," he continued, "But, there's nothing there between us anymore. There never was, really. We were...we were both brought up Catholic, and I guess when she fell pregnant we had no choice but to get married. I can't even remember a time that we actually got along. Ever since she told me she was pregnant, ever since we both knew what we had to do, the arguments started then and they've never stopped."

Brendan paused as he composed himself, kept his gaze fixed downwards but knew Steven was listening on intently, drinking in his every word.

"Don't get me wrong, Declan, and Padriag, they're the best things in my life – always have been – and I love her as the mother of my kids. She puts up with all my shit, doesn't judge me for...for what I do...what I have to do to provide for us all," he faltered as he realised what he was admitting to Steven about himself, but brushed it aside and carried on.

"Our marriage was over years ago – before it even began. I, erm, I know that she's strayed in the past. She doesn't know that I know, but I couldn't blame her for it, not really, not when I don't exactly give her, y'know, what she _needs_. And honestly, if it wasn't for the kids, it would have been over years ago. I just can't force myself to feel guilty, can't pretend that I do because I don't. And if that makes me a bad person, then I'm a bad person. But there's far worse things to judge me for, I promise ye."

Ste looked up at him, part shocked by the level of honesty he had just been graced with by the Irishman, part relieved that the guilty knot in the pit of his stomach seemed to have unravelled itself slightly with Brendan's words. It was still wrong – of course it was wrong – Eileen didn't deserve to be lied to like this, to be deceived by himself and Brendan when she had never been anything other than kind to him. Ste wasn't completely fine with it – still pictured the look of horror that would have spread across her face had she walked in on them earlier – still pitied her complete ignorance towards the fact that her husband was gay – but he had never been completely innocent, never been one to abide by the rules, and there was no way he was going to let the little niggling shred of guilt in the pit of his stomach stop him from devouring every inch of Brendan Brady whenever he was given the chance. He was selfish at the end of it all – had never met anybody who truly wasn't – and he wanted this. He wanted it so fucking badly it consumed his every thought, and deep down he knew that Eileen was nothing more than an obstacle in his path towards Brendan.

Ste turned towards Brendan and smiled as they reached the top of the stairs and stopped outside Ste's front door. They had climbed the stairs in silence, Ste mulling over his thoughts about Eileen, and Brendan struggling to find the right words to say to Steven - the ones that said something about him not having to worry about Eileen, that she was nothing to him, not like that, and that he would chose to spend time with Steven over her any day of the week.

"Thank you," Steven said genuinely, Brendan smiling back at him now.

"What for?" Brendan asked.

"For being honest," Ste replied, "About everything. It means a lot."

They smirked to each other now, both of them fully aware that deep down – beyond all of this shit, beyond the dishonesty, the sexuality, the secret affairs and the putting jobs at risk – beyond all of that was the two of them; the way they were right now; the way they made each other feel young and alive and _worth something _again, and they both knew nothing would be stopping them now. No amount of guilt or shame could surpass the feeling of pure carnal desire that consumed them both when they were close.

They both leant forwards at the same moment, catching each other in a lust filled and passionate kiss, tongues working away in the way they seemed to have become accustomed, both of them knowing now, knowing how this was going to work, knowing there was nothing that could stand in their path.

Brendan pulled away reluctantly, laughing as he looked back at the unashamedly horny boy stood before him.

"I gotta go, Steven," he whispered, knew Eileen would be up waiting for him to return and although he wanted nothing more than to tear off his clothes and fuck him up against his front door right now, he knew he had to resist. "Night, Steven," he smiled as he leant back in for another chaste kiss against his lips.

"Night, Brendan," Ste called out after him as the Irishman walked away, glancing down over his retreating form and admiring the way his perfectly shaped ass clung to the material of his trousers.

He went to put his key in the door to let himself in, when he heard the footsteps rush back up the stairs, and turned to see Brendan standing before him once again, pointing at his ribs and the bruises now appearing on his face.

"I _am _right in assuming this means you won't be on the cruise tomorrow, right?" Brendan asked expectantly.

"Erm, I guess not," Ste answered hesitantly, hadn't given himself much chance to think about tomorrow, "Anne will have to cover for me, why?"

Brendan smirked.

"I've got plans for ye," he teased as he leant in for a final quick kiss and winked as he walked away, mouthing _Call Me _in his direction as he made the phone signal with his left hand.

Ste laughed to himself when the Irishman was out of sight, his legs feeling weak all of a sudden as he let himself in through his front door, closing it behind him and leaning up against it, smile spread out across his face unashamedly like a teenager.

He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

_**Please Review! xxx**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Thank you once again for your reviews/follows/faves/views :D**_

_**Ok, so I kind of feel like some parts of this chapter are a bit flat and boring. I've tried to sit down and write it every night for about a week and I've just been totally stumped, and finally got the urge to write it late last night, so I'm sorry if it's a bit rubbish. I've been lacking any inspiration for it I'm afraid so apologies in advance :(**_

_**Anyways, hope it's not too bad. Let me know what you think as always :)**_

Day Nine - Part 1

Ste was up early – far earlier than his body was used to – and he found himself stood pacing back and forth in his front room, outside Anne's bedroom. The pain in his ribs had woken him plenty of times in the night, the pain searing through him whenever he tried to turn onto his side or his front, but it had been fear of telling Anne about his attack which had stopped him dropping off straight back to sleep.

The problem was that she knew too much. She knew about Ste, knew about his past and his indiscretions, and Ste was worried for her reaction when she found out it could all be catching up with him. He would do anything not to see that look of disappointment in her eyes that told him when he had fucked up.

And with Danny Houston, he had fucked up big time.

He winced as he tasted the tang of iron on his tongue, realising he had been biting anxiously on his lip and had re-opened one of his wounds from the beating. He pulled his sleeve down over his hand to wipe the blood from his face, and found himself chewing on his fist in lieu of his bleeding lip, indentations from his teeth starting to show on his knuckles.

He continued to pace, thinking over situations in his head. How could he tell Anne that Danny had found him and that he needed help? And then how would he explain about Brendan too? Could he admit to her that he was starting to develop feelings for the man? That what Brendan saw as just some holiday fling was quickly turning into so much more for Ste, and that Anne would probably be the only one around to pick up the pieces when he returned home with his wife and kids in a few days time?

He jumped at the sound of the bedroom door creaking open, Anne emerging with a wide yawn that she broke out of as soon as she saw the state of Ste before her.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked with a frown, not awake enough to be showing concern or sympathy right now.

Ste looked back at her guiltily, chewing the inside of his mouth as his mind worked in overdrive, trying to work out what he should tell her and what he should keep hidden.

It was no use trying to lie – he had to be honest with her.

"Danny Houston," he admitted quietly, almost inaudibly; but she had heard and understood him clear enough.

She breathed a heavy sigh, suddenly feeling a wave of doubt pass over her. She had dealt with quite a lot in her life, more than the average girl her age, but she felt completely out of her depth when it came to favours owed to drug dealing gang lords.

Ste kept looking at her expectantly - he had become so used to her having all the answers for him that he hadn't even entertained the idea that she might not be able to help him with this.

"What shall I do, Anne?" he asked with an air of desperation.

She stood and considered his question for a few moments, glancing her eyes across the cuts to his face and the bruising that was starting to develop under his left eye.

"How am I meant to help you with this, Ste?" she asked plainly, tone measured and controlled, eyes locked firmly into those of the broken man before her.

Ste dropped his gaze, looking down at the floor. He had hoped she could give him some answers, give him guidance on how to deal with this, but he knew deep down this wasn't something she could help with. She had never been a part of that world – had grown up in the suburbs and never had to delve into the world of crime to get by like Ste had done – so this was one area where her usual wisdom was displaced.

"How did Danny find you?" she asked, walking towards him tentatively and raising her hands to inspect his wounds.

"I don't know," Ste answered with unease, "They just jumped me, these two guys. His lackies, I guess."

He let her move his head from side to side with her hand under his chin, eventually pulling him into a soft hug as she stroked the back of his head. He winced slightly as she pulled him too close and the pain shot through his chest.

"Ribs?" she asked him as she pulled away with a grimace on her face.

"Yeah," he nodded back at her.

"Do you need to go get them checked out? Hospital?" she questioned.

"No, I'll be fine," he assured her as he pulled away, rounding her and sitting himself down on the sofa. "It's just some bruising I think."

Anne moved around to join him on the sofa, tucking her knees up close to her chest as she regarded him with a worried stare.

"How do you know it was Danny?" she asked after a short while.

"Erm, just that, the guys who jumped me...when they left, they said something about Danny giving them an easy target," Ste told her blankly.

"You sure it's Danny Houston then?" she questioned.

"Well I haven't pissed off any other Danny's that I'm aware of," Ste answered her calmly, fighting his natural urge to drip his words in sass and sarcasm. "It was only a matter of time 'til he came looking for me, weren't it?"

"It might just be -"

"It's him, ok Mitz," Ste interrupted, "I owe him, and now he's found me."

Anne could feel the atmosphere turning – could see the fear in Ste's eyes turning to bitterness and knew she needed to pull him back. She knew about his past with Danny – had been there to help him through it and to pick up the pieces after it all happened. They had bonded over shared tales of woe – hers about Riley, and his about his parents as well as Amy and the kids – and she knew the dangers he was in due to his association with someone like Danny.

"What do you do now?" she asked tentatively, concern creeping into her tone now as she worried what the answer to her own question would be.

Ste hesitated before answering, mulling his answer over in his own head before confirming his own fears out loud.

"I guess I just wait," he conceded. "He knows where I am, he'll let me know what he wants from me soon enough."

"Fucks sake, Ste," Anne muttered in exasperation as she exhaled, shaking her head as she watched Ste stare out of the window, deep in thought.

She had to try to bring him back from the edge of despair. She couldn't sit and watch her friend wallow in pity like this.

"Who cleaned you up?" she asked, noticing the lack of blood pouring from his cuts and the lack of gravel in the graze on his cheekbones.

The question pulled Ste from his thoughts, and he returned his attention back to Anne.

"Erm, Brendan found me," he replied.

"Brendan?" she questioned.

"Yeah, we was meant to be meetin' for a drink, weren't we? That's when I got jumped. He found me and took me back to his room, got me all cleaned up and that," Ste replied.

It hadn't gone unnoticed to Anne how he had suddenly become chatty again when the Irishman's name was mentioned. Something about that man just seemed to perk Ste up almost instantly.

"He ok with you?" Anne asked reluctantly, still wary to trust Brendan completely after his initial violence towards Ste.

The glint in Ste's eye told Anne all she needed to know, and she rolled her eyes affectionately at him.

"Yeah, he was more than ok, Anne," he smirked.

"Jesus, Ste," she smiled back at him, "Is there nothing that'll stop you pair?"

"I hope not," Ste quipped straight back, beaming now despite the cloud looming over him right now.

"You're unbelievable," she scolded him playfully.

"I need you to do me a favour, through, Anne," Ste asked after a short while. "Any chance you could cover the cruise for me, what with the whole mugging thing? Not exactly the best impression to make, is it? Plus I can't be done with anyone asking me any questions about it or owt."

"Yeah, course I will," Anne smiled back, winking at him to let him know she was fully aware of his intentions over the next few days. While the cats away, and all that.

He smiled back at her knowingly, giggling slightly at the thought of it himself.

"Cheers, you're a diamond," he replied.

-s-

After a hearty breakfast and a strong cup of tea, Ste cautiously made his way into the hotel Reception to face the shift he was covering for Anne in return for her taking the cruise. Anne had done her best to try to cover up his bruises, but he knew if anyone looked at him for long enough they would see the purpling skin behind her concealer, so he concentrated on staying out of anybody's way. He could just claim to have a hangover and to not want to speak to anyone if any of the hotel staff tried talking to him, and he prayed that no customers came to see him as he manned the desk in Reception.

Apart from Brendan, that was.

If Brendan came over, he would be more than willing to break his silence.

He smiled as he thought back to the Irishman's final words as he left him the night before – that he had _plans _for him. His mouth started salivating as he let his imagination run away with all sorts of _plans _he was hoping Brendan had in mind. He was so ready for him – ready to give himself to Brendan completely – and he knew tonight had to be it. If Eileen hadn't almost caught them at it in the bathroom last night, he may well have pushed for it then. If she had been seconds earlier, she would have seen her husband devouring him like he was his last meal; but had she been 10 minutes later, she may well have interrupted something a whole lot more intimate. He just couldn't stop himself when it came to the Irishman.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he pulled himself out of his daydream. He didn't care if he was being pushy, or clingy, or if he was breaking all the rules of trying to play it cool – he wanted to see Brendan, to speak to him, to know that he had been playing on his mind as much as Brendan had been playing on Ste's. Last night had been incredible – more than incredible – by far the most mind-blowing feeling Ste had ever known before in his life. He thought he had known pleasure, thought he had known sex; but Brendan had opened his eyes to a whole new world of intensity, and he couldn't wait to explore that even further as soon as he could get Brendan alone again.

He picked up his phone and toyed with the idea of calling him, but stopped himself for fear of what he would say if Eileen were to pick up, or even his kids. He didn't want to raise her suspicions.

He settled for a text message, but deliberated for a good while over what to send. As he stood in the far corner of the hotel lobby, twirling his phone around in his hands anxiously, playing over different messages he could send in his head, his eyes narrowed as he spotted three suited men walk in through the hotel entrance. It raised his suspicions instantly – nobody dressed like that over here unless they were people to be wary of – and as soon as he spotted the flash of blond on the man in the middle he knew who it was.

He darted off quickly and hid behind one of the pillars that decorated the sides of the lobby, shielding himself from view. He could clearly make out Danny's features as he approached the Reception desk, but he didn't recognise the two men he was with. He wished he could have heard what they were saying but he was a little too far away, just out of earshot. He could imagine what they wanted, though, and felt dread rising within him at the thought of it.

His heart sank and his mind began to race, panic setting in as he realised Danny had found out where he worked. It would only be a matter of time before he turned up on his doorstep, demanding that Ste repay his favour. He just prayed that Sofia on Reception, who Danny was stood talking to right now, would keep his confidence and put Danny off the scent for a little while. She didn't know what she was protecting Ste from, but he hoped she could grasp that three men turning up in suits asking after him was bad news, and that she shouldn't tell them anything. He hoped she was bright enough to have made that deduction herself.

He chanced another glance out from behind his pillar, just in time to see the three men retreating back outside the hotel entrance. He sighed heavily and emerged from his hiding place, trying to catch Sofia's attention to gauge some sort of idea from her as to what she had told the men, but she didn't seem to be showing any interest in him for once. Ste thought that strange, having assumed she would be eager to have an excuse to come and talk to him for once, to quiz him over the important looking men who had dropped by to see him – but she seemed completely disinterested in him. Almost as if Danny hadn't even mentioned Ste's name when he'd been here. Strange.

He was about to approach her and try a little digging when his message tone beeped from his phone. He glanced down at it expectantly, and dropped his shoulders with relief as he read Brendan's _Your New Favourite Person _ID show up on his phone. He had half thought it might have been Danny. He smiled goofily to himself as he opened up the message.

_How's the ribs?_ _Sleep ok?_

He didn't know why, but the idea of Brendan asking him if he slept ok made a shiver run through him. If Ste didn't know better, he would have said it meant that he cared, even just a little. As if he was more than just a bit of holiday fun for the Irishman – however ridiculous Ste knew that thought was. He typed out a quick reply:

_Still hurtin, didn't sleep gr8 tbh. U ok?_

He sat down on one of the sofa's in Reception and awaited the Irishman's reply.

_I'm ok. You should be resting._

Ste smiled at his concern and replied straight away.

_Some of us av gotta work ;) Annes gonna do the cruise tho_

Brendan's reply was instant:

_Interesting_

And then another text came through straight after:

_Where have your bruises gone?_

Ste looked around, sure he would find Brendan staring at him from some corner of the lobby, but every where he looked he drew a blank.

_Wot you mean?_

He was confused even more by Brendan's immediate reply:

_The bruise under your eye. It's healed quickly._

He knew then Brendan was sat watching him somewhere, but he couldn't see him wherever he looked. It unnerved him slightly, that he could be watching him and Ste was completely unaware. He thought for a second about Danny, about how he must have seen him before sending his minions out to pass on his warning, but he tried to shake that thought from his mind. He couldn't live his life like that, could he? He texted Brendan back:

_Where are you?_

Brendan's reply was instant once again. He clearly had no regard for the rules about appearing too keen, and Ste loved it.

_Never mind where I am. Are you wearing make up?_

Ste felt himself flush red with embarrassment. He knew the concealer Anne had put him on his bruises wasn't obvious, but he was also aware that Brendan _knew _the bruise was there, and had obviously deduced how Ste had managed to cover it up so successfully.

_Shut up_

He replied as the smile ripped across his face. He could picture Brendan laughing at him from wherever he was watching. His phone buzzed with another reply:

_Come outside. And by the way, you're cute when you blush._

Ste wasn't sure his smile could grow any wider, but somehow it stepped up another level upon reading Brendan's text. How could he not do as he was told and go outside when he had just told him he looked cute? How could he not fall at the Irishman's feet and just obey his every command when he was being so fucking _cute _himself.

He picked up his bag and moved outside to the pool area, hoping he would see Brendan as soon as he stepped out into the sunshine. He was still being elusive, however, and Ste glanced in every direction but to no avail. He made his way to one of the sun loungers, and was about to text Brendan a plea to show his face when his phone buzzed again.

_Take off your shirt._

Ste smirked and shook his head. He was tempted, almost doing it without thinking, until he remembered the purpling, yellowing marks on his skin and how stupid he would have to be to expose that to all of his customers around the pool. He replied to Brendan reluctantly.

_I can't. Bruises._

Brendan took a while to reply then, Ste assuming he had forgotten all about it for a brief moment as he had done himself, and wasn't appreciating the reminder. His phone buzzed again eventually.

_Ok. Save it for later then if you must._

The smile returned to Ste's face. He replied expectantly:

_Later?_

And Brendan confirmed it in a heartbeat:

_Later._

Ste lay back in his sun lounger and smiled excitedly to himself, texting Brendan back:

_That a promise?_

He lay back and closed his eyes, letting the images of his own filthy imagination dance behind his eyelids, graphic images of everything he wanted to do to Brendan, and wanted Brendan to do to him. He waited for Brendan's reply, but nothing came. He kept clicking his phone to check for a response, but nothing came. He tried not to appear too obvious, all too aware that the Irishman's eyes could well be watching his every move from somewhere close by, and resisted the urge to double text him. He noticed it was nearing 1pm and that he needed to be present at the holiday company's desk in Reception, so he pulled himself up and sauntered inside, checking his phone once more as he moved - still no reply. Brendan had obviously decided to start playing hard to get all of a sudden.

-s-

He sat at the desk impatiently, still watching his phone, perplexed as to why all of sudden Brendan had stopped texting. He hoped he hadn't said the wrong thing – hadn't pushed him too far and scared him off. He had high expectations for this evening and he was damned if he was going to let the Irishman start running scared again.

He sensed somebody approaching the desk and looked up from his phone reluctantly.

"Ste, hi," Eileen smiled as she breezed up to him, one kid in each hand and Brendan lurking sheepishly behind her.

"Hi," Ste smiled back, looking beyond her and trying to get Brendan's attention, which seemed to be rooted to the floor. "You all excited for your trip?"

"Oh, they can't wait Ste," Eileen beamed, oblivious to his distraction, "We're just off for some lunch then we're going to pack. What time do the coaches come?"

"They leave at 4, don't be late," he warned playfully. "And Anne's heading up the trip now, what with, y'know..." he trailed off as he nodded his head down towards his chest and the injuries that he knew Eileen was fully aware of.

"Yeah, of course," she smiled with sympathy, "How you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine, me," Ste reassured her, "Tougher than I look. Just thought it's best not to push meself with the cruise, y'know."

"Yeah, makes sense," Eileen agreed, "And this one will look after ye, won't ye?" she said as she pointed back towards Brendan, who looked up and faced Ste for the first time.

"Yeah, yeah of course," Brendan smiled at his wife before turning his attention back to Ste, a smirk playing over his lips. "Anything ye need, mate, I'm all yours."

Ste exhaled sharply as he let Brendan's secret invitation drip over him, suddenly feeling overcome with a knot of excitement in the pit of his stomach as he locked eyes with the Irishman, an all-knowing glance shared between the two of them that was downright disrespectful in their present company.

"Might have to take you up on that," Ste replied, and couldn't wait to do just that once Eileen was out of the way later.

Ste had no idea how Eileen didn't pick up on the shameless foreplay the two of them were almost engaging in – the build up to what they both knew was coming later on that night.

"We best get some lunch, anyway," Eileen said as she started to walk off towards the restaurant, kids in tow. "See ye later, Ste."

"Bye," Ste replied as they walked off, catching Brendan's eyeline once more as he started to follow his family.

"Yeah, see you later, Steven," Brendan said as he retreated, his deep Irish lull shooting straight to Ste's cock in anticipation of what Brendan was promising.

He couldn't fucking wait until later.

-s-

It had been just less than an hour since the Brady's had gone off for lunch, and time seemed to be dragging. Ste had watched the doors to the restaurant like a hawk, counting down the minutes until Brendan reappeared. He felt like a teenager again, like he was crushing over one of his mates again as he used to do, but he couldn't have admitted that to himself at the time. The difference was that he knew Brendan wanted him too. Whether or not this was a long term thing; whether or not they had any future after Brendan returned home in a few days time; whether or not he would ever admit to his true identity – neither of them could deny that Brendan _wanted_ him, just as much as _he_ wanted Brendan.

The restaurant doors flung open once again and Ste's eyes lit up as Declan and Paddy ran out, playfighting with pretend light-sabres as they ran through the lobby. Ste watched on as Eileen and Brendan sauntered out after them, walking miles apart from each other and displaying the distance in their relationship to anybody who cared enough to notice. Brendan looked straight in Ste's direction, locking eyes with him as his lips twitched upwards, clearly trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break out over his face.

Ste watched Brendan lean over and say something to Eileen, who nodded and called the boys back over before going to call for the lift. Brendan started to saunter over in Ste's direction, playful expression dancing over his face, before Ste's attention was drawn away by the sound of someone standing infront of his desk and coughing.

"Oh, sorry, hiya," Ste grimaced as he broke his eye contact with Brendan and looked over to the customer stood before him, "How can I help?"

Ste sat and half-listened to the man infront of him, who introduced himself as Mr Hill, and who seemed to be having a few issues with his air conditioning. He was requesting for it to be fixed right away or Ste would have to sort out a new room for him and his wife. Ste couldn't have been less interested in Mr Hill's problems right now, and broke his attention away every few seconds to glance over in Brendan's direction.

He had stayed behind in the lobby as Eileen and the boys had returned to the room, and was sitting on one of the sofa's in the large lobby area – the same one he had been on the other night when Ste had returned from the sunset cruise at gone midnight. He was watching Ste intently, taking pleasure in making him feel nervous under the pressure of his scrutiny.

Ste couldn't help but notice that Brendan looked sexy as hell today, sporting smart navy blue knee length shorts and a crisp bright white v-neck t-shirt. There was something about the way the Irishman dressed, and about the way he composed himself. He was different to all the other tourists that came and went week by week – he had an air of superiority about him than just drew Ste in, made him want the man more and more each time he lay eyes on him. He never seemed to be affected by the heat, never broke a sweat, never looked even slightly uncomfortable, even when it passed 40 degrees. He was enigmatic and mysterious, and it was clear that he didn't let people in easily – but he _had_ let Ste in. For some reason, something completely perplexing to Ste himself, Brendan had seen fit to break down some of his own barriers to let the boy see part way in. Ste was under no illusion though – there was more to Brendan Brady than Ste had been afforded a glance at – and he wasn't sure he would ever know the full story. He wasn't sure that anybody ever would.

He desperately tried to keep his eyes off the Irishman, feigning concern at Mr Hill and his air conditioning problem but all the while feeling Brendan's eyes burning into the side of his head, the heat of his stare feeling stifling as he tried to ignore it. It wasn't fair, and Ste made a note to make sure he scolded Brendan for it later on. He couldn't think about later on right now, however – he couldn't deal with being any more flustered than he already was.

After hearing Mr Hill out for over 25 minutes and trying to convey his apologies, the hotel handy man reappeared to advise Ste that the air con couldn't be fixed, so he was going to have to sort out a room change. He sighed heavily and set about the task, throwing what he hoped looked like an apology in Brendan's direction. Seconds later he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out to see a text from Brendan.

_Gonna be long?_

He looked over to the Irishman and nodded reluctantly, all the while cursing his own luck that when he had finally been afforded the luxury of Brendan's attention, he had also been stuck looking after Mr Hill.

He noticed Brendan get up and walk over to the lifts, throwing Ste a suggestive wink as he skulked off. Fucking tease.

An hour later Ste was back at his desk having set the couple up in their new sub-zero temperature room, and as he checked his watch he noticed the lobby filling with small groups of people holding onto their bags, clearly waiting for the coaches for the Egypt cruise. It was nearing 4pm, and he knew that meant one thing – Eileen and the kids were nearly out of the way.

He caught Anne's eye from across the lobby as she milled around the groups, ticking off their names from her list and dishing out the essential bits of information they would need. She mouthed an _are you ok_ in Ste's direction so he nodded and smiled at her reassuringly in response. She smiled back at him and carried on taking names.

A few minutes later the lift door pinged open and all four Brady's walked out, Brendan's eyes meeting Ste's instantly and the pair of them trying yet again to hide that same satisfied smile.

Ste heard snippets of their conversation as the family passed him, walking over to join Anne and the rest of the tourists.

"Ye didn't have to chaperone us down, Brendan," he heard Eileen say.

"Just wanted to make sure ye got off ok, Eileen," Brendan replied, eyes locking onto Ste's as they passed by. It felt like some private conversation between the two of them, both of them fully aware why Brendan wanted to make sure she had definitely left. Ste couldn't help but feel excited by it.

A few minutes later and they were all being herded onto the coach, Brendan waving up at Declan and Paddy through the coach window as it pulled away. As soon as they were out of sight, Brendan spun on his heels and walked purposefully back through the sliding glass doors and straight over to Steven, who was stood with his back to him. He stopped inches away from him, could feel the boys body heat creeping onto his chest, and felt his shoulders tense up as Brendan leant in close to his ear and whispered to him.

"About time."

Ste relaxed his shoulders upon hearing the Irish accent, had been scared for a second that it had been the other gangster in his life creeping up on him, and smiled when he spun round to see Brendan before him and not Danny.

"Yeah, that's it, creep up on the guy who was mugged last night," Ste chastised him with a smile on his face.

Brendan smiled back at him but flinched back slightly when he realised they were almost nose to nose, and it was far too public for them to be this close to each other. He had almost lost his mind completely and leant in for a taste of the boys perfectly delectable lips, before he had regained his composure and realised where they were and how many people were watching.

He would save that for later, when they were alone.

"You missed me?" Brendan asked almost arrogantly, knowing Ste's reply without even having to ask.

"Maybe," he teased back.

"Hmmm, only you haven't taken your eyes off me all day," Brendan smirked.

"Could say the same to you, Brady," Ste pointed out, self-satisfied smile on his face.

Ste broke away from the Irishman's gaze and continued what he was doing before he had been interrupted - tidying up the desk and putting everything back into the office. He was done for the day, and he knew what that meant – him and Brendan had nothing in their way now.

Brendan went to follow him into the office, but stopped himself when he saw the girl on the Reception desk eyeing him suspiciously. He wondered what her sudden interest was in him, but decided he wouldn't pique it any further by disappearing into the office with Steven. He would have his fill of the boy later – he was sure of that. He just needed to be patient.

When Steven had finished packing everything away he wandered straight over to Brendan again, expression full of hope and anticipation.

"So," he asked teasingly, looking up at him through his lashes in a way that was just making Brendan's heart race. He couldn't wait to see the lad giving him this smile as he fucked him senseless later on that night, his blood running hot at the mere suggestion of it.

He composed himself after a lengthy pause. "So?" he replied expectantly.

"So," Steven answered him back, "What's these _plans _you've got for me?"

He emphasised the word _plans _with such seduction that Brendan had to stop himself ripping his clothes off right away and fucking him up against the desk in front of everyone.

"You'll have to wait and see," Brendan flirted back, licking his lips as he watched the boy biting down on his bottom lip seductively.

Brendan didn't think he'd ever seen anything so fucking tempting in his entire life.

Ste blinked up at him before coming in close to whisper his reply.

"Maybe I don't want to wait."

Brendan inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling his stomach flip and his chest tighten with something that seemed completely alien to him, something he had never felt before. This boy could be the end of him.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he allowed himself to catch the boys eye.

"Patience is a virtue, boy," he teased.

"I think we've been patient enough, don't you," Ste replied quickly, his words seeming to reach down and ignite Brendan's cock into life, rendering him almost speechless for what must have been the first time in a long while.

Brendan shook his head and forced himself to break his gaze away from this boy, before he did something reckless that he would live to regret. He laughed nervously, noticed Steven's expression wash over with uncertainty and he knew the boy wondered if he had taken it too far, pushed him with his words, scared him away with his eagerness.

He hadn't. Not even close.

Brendan wanted to see that knowing smile return to Steven's face, so he started to put his plan into action.

"What are you doing tonight?" Brendan asked, apprehension starting to kick in about what he was about to do.

Ste resisted the urge to say _You _in response, hoping to god that would be true but not sure enough of himself to be that arrogant. He shrugged nonchalantly instead, as if he didn't already know he had cleared his entire diary to make way for the Irishman.

"Ye fancy going out?" Brendan asked nervously, not as sure of himself as he usually was.

Ste felt a little disappointed, couldn't deny that it was a night _in _with Brendan that he had been hoping for.

"Yeah, can do," Ste answered lightly, trying to hide his regret.

"We can just have dinner, or something, few drinks, whatever, come back here, y'know, whatever you want."

Ste smiled to himself - Brendan was nervous. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes, but Brendan was asking him out for dinner, and he was nervous about it.

"Is this a date?" Ste asked cheekily.

"It's not a fucking date, is it?" Brendan snapped back, suddenly avoiding all eye contact.

Ste couldn't wipe the smirk from his face.

"Why's it not a date? I think it's a date," Ste continued to tease him.

"It's not a date, Steven," Brendan replied, "How can it be a date? We're two blokes. We don't go on dates, ok? I just need to eat and I don't wanna go on my own, that's all."

Ste thought Brendan was protesting a little too much, but didn't feel the need to push it. He knew it was a date, and he felt on top of the world for it.

"Yeah ok," Ste agreed, twinkle in his eye that Brendan smiled at. Brendan knew he'd been rumbled, and he couldn't admit to caring all that much about it.

"Ok," Brendan smiled back, grasping back at his composure and looking Steven in the eye once again. "Let's make it an early one," he added, "Six sound good?"

Ste smiled. An early start meant plenty of time for plenty of other things besides dinner and drinks to happen, and that was fine as far as Ste was concerned.

"Perfect," he answered, but as he looked up he noticed Brendan's attention had been diverted elsewhere, and a look of pure panic was starting to spread across his features.

Ste turned slowly to find out what was instilling such fear in Brendan's eyes, half expecting to see Eileen stood there witnessing their infidelity.

But it wasn't Eileen. It was worse than that.

Slowly sauntering through the hotel entrance once again, still sporting that same pinstriped suit despite the humidity, was Danny Houston.

Danny took a second to cast his glare over the lobby, and Ste wondered in that split second if he should run. He hadn't been spotted yet, and if he was quick enough he could make it.

But he couldn't move. Rabbit in the headlights syndrome took over, and before he had the chance to regain control of his body, Danny's confident eyes had locked into his own and he was done.

Danny's approach seemed agonisingly slow, torturing him as the suspense made the hair on his forearms stand on end, and he played through a million different scenarios in his head as to how this could play out. He knew he had pissed Danny off – knew he had been cheeky and taken him for a ride – but he never thought it would be enough to make him track him down like this, come all the way over here just to take from him what he owed.

"Well, well, well," Danny started, his East London accent thick with Cockney charm, a proper villain straight from the set of Eastenders. Ste's blood ran cold at the sound of his voice, at the memories it brought back to him. "If it's not our own little runaway, young Ste Hay," he drawled, "Fancy seeing you here."

"D-Danny," Ste started, searching for the apology that his brain couldn't formulate right now.

"It's been a while, ain't it lad," Danny smiled at him knowingly. He had Ste in the palm of his hand and he would have usually enjoyed dragging this out, but he had to remember that Ste wasn't the reason he was here.

Ste turned quickly back to Brendan, fully intending to hash together some kind of introduction between the two men to break some of the tension, but when he turned he was surprised to find the Irishman had disappeared. He turned back to Danny confused, but the Cockney hadn't picked up on his bewilderment, mistaking it just for unease at finding himself in Danny's company.

"Nasty cut you got on your eye, there, lad," Danny continued, drinking in the fear from Ste's eyes, "Sorry 'bout that. I'm here on other business but I couldn't believe my luck when I saw you wander out these doors the other night. Had to send you a little reminder, you know how it is. No hard feelings. Just don't forget about that little favour you still owe me, yeah."

Ste gulped down and found the strength from somewhere to try to explain himself.

"Danny, I can – I can explain that, Danny, I swear, I just had -"

"I ain't interested in your excuses," Danny interrupted him before he could explain, punctuating every word in that menacing way he always had, "All I'm interested in, lad, is that you still owe me. Big time."

"Yeah I know, Danny, I know, and I'll do anything, I promise, just name it," Ste pleaded with him, could hear his own words and cringed at how desperate he sounded, but he knew he was in trouble and he would do anything to save his own skin right now. He was thankful Brendan had scarpered – he would rather die than let him witness this pathetic display – but he couldn't help wishing he had stayed to defend him. He would have him out about that later.

Ste watched as Danny's face morphed slowly into a smile, and he realised he was formulating something. He could almost hear the cogs turning, almost see the light bulb flickering on above his head, as Danny seemed to form some sort of plan right before his eyes.

"Funny you should say that, actually," Danny continued, the smile growing even further as he pieced together his idea, "There's something you can help me with, now you come to mention it."

Ste watched on in expectation, dreading what Danny was about to suggest. He knew he would never be free of Danny if he didn't pay him back though, so he resigned himself to his punishment.

"What's that Danny?" he asked reluctantly.

"Well, if you can believe it, I never actually came out here for you, lad," Danny explained in that slow, laboured, hostile tone he owned so well, "Though I can't deny it's playing right into my hands having you here, what with you owing me a favour and everything."

"Please, Danny, I'll do anything I swear," Ste continued to beg unashamedly.

"Alright, lad, stop fucking whining," Danny almost laughed, "Jeez, you always were pathetic, weren't you kid?"

Ste resented that. He had been desperate, and desperate men did desperate things, didn't they? But he wasn't pathetic. He was far from it – had been through enough shit to be able to stand up for himself. He had just gotten a little out of his depth.

Still, he would rather people like Danny underestimate him like this – it gave him a fighting chance to surprise them and come out on top.

"Real reason I'm here," Danny continued steadily, "Is that someone stole from me. And when I say stole, I mean they fucking pulled a proper Italian job on my arse. And now I need to teach them a lesson."

Ste looked back at him expectantly.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

Danny laughed at him, clearly thinking Ste was thick as two short planks and incapable of joining the dots by himself.

"The man who stole from me, he thinks he's done a runner," Danny explained, slow as torture now, Ste begging him to reach his point. "But I ain't as easy to fool as that. See, the stupid fucker used his credit card here last week, so I reckon he's staying right here in this hotel. Probably spending all my fucking money in that posh spa down there. Only every time I call, they won't tell me shit. And when I asked that pretty little piece on the Reception over there she wouldn't tell me shit either. So you see my predicament here, young Ste?"

Ste nodded back. He didn't like where this was heading, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach as he started to piece it all together.

"So, what with you working here and everything," Danny continued, "I reckon you're gonna be able to find him for me and bring him to me. That sound like something you think you can handle, yeah?"

"Yeah, course Danny," Ste confirmed after a short moment of hesitation. "Who – who is he?" he asked, although by now he had a pretty good idea what the answer was going to be.

"His name's Brady. Brendan Brady. And you can't fucking miss him, got a moustache straight out of a Village People video, fucking ridiculous."

Ste's heart dropped straight to the floor; his world falling apart beneath his feet. He tried desperately to keep the devastation off his face – hoping Danny would mistake it for unease at what he was asking him to do, not _who _he was asking him to screw over. He was asking him to turn Brendan over to him, to trick him into walking right into Danny's path, to leave him at Danny's mercy.

The mere thought of Brendan being in danger was making him feel physically sick, his mouth running dry all of a sudden and his heart rate increasing with the panic that was coursing through his body now. He had never been a martyr, but he couldn't hand Brendan over to Danny just to save himself. He couldn't do it. It wasn't even a case of him not wanting to – he physically couldn't. Hurting Brendan, or putting him in the line of fire, was simply not an option Ste was willing to take. He would rather take the beating himself than let anyone touch Brendan.

It was only with this thought that he realised exactly how much he had let himself care about the Irishman. He couldn't lose him now, much less to some two-bit gangster like Danny Houston. Brendan was bigger and better than he was – who the fuck did Danny think he was anyway? He was nothing next to Brendan.

"Now, I can see you're working right now," Danny interrupted Ste's thoughts as he smiled eerily, pointing down at his uniform, "unless you like to dress like this for fun?"

Ste didn't know if that question was rhetorical, replying with just a nervous laugh.

"What I'll do, lad, is give you 'til tomorrow. Midday. Have a check on your records, see if he's staying here. I'll meet you in the cafe round the corner. If he's here, we'll come up with a little agreement, something that gets me what I want and gets you off the hook with that favour you owe me. How does that sound?"

Ste nodded nervously, mind still spinning with what Danny was asking him to do.

"Yeah, yeah Danny, course," he assured as he continued to nod furiously, against all of his bodily instincts.

"Good work, lad," Danny smiled, an obviously fake smile that he didn't even try to pretend had reached his eyes. "And try not to be so fucking...jittery all the time, yeah. I ain't gonna hurt ya."

Ste laughed back, well aware of how nervous and _jittery _he definitely sounded. "Yeah, course," he replied.

"Unless you fuck me over, of course. Again," Danny laughed, "And then I will fucking hurt ya. That clear enough for ya?"

"Crystal," Ste replied without hesitation.

"Good. See you tomorrow then, lad," Danny confirmed, and with that he turned and walked straight back through the hotel entrance, never once looking back, just leaving Ste a nervous, confused wreck; alone with this complete and utter headfuck of a situation.

He owed Danny Houston a favour, and to pay him back, he had to hand Brendan over to him on a plate. Brendan who had turned his world upside down in the past eight days. Brendan who he was falling for quicker than he could even comprehend, his heart already in fifth gear and in far too deep as his mind tried desperately to keep up, lagging behind as he tried to work out exactly what the Irishman meant to him.

Brendan who he was ready to hand _himself _over to in every single way later that night.

He sat down, head in his hands as he tried to get his head around it all. Danny hadn't been here to find him after all – he had been more than willing to make his presence known once he had found Ste – but it had been Brendan he had been looking for. It must have been Brendan he was asking Sofia about when Ste saw him earlier. And it must have been Danny who had been calling Reception asking after Brendan for the past few days.

And it was Brendan who had stolen from Danny. Stolen big time, by the sounds of it.

Nobody stole big time from Danny Houston. Not if they valued their life.

But then he had to remind himself – Brendan wasn't just anybody. Brendan was Brendan Brady. Notorious, hardened criminal; Don of the North West; Vinny Ocean eat your heart out.

As much as he struggled to reconcile that image with the man he had gotten to know over the past few days, he had to face the reality – the Brendan he knew was only one side of a man with many faces. And one of those faces was threatening to kill off everything they had, before it had even _properly _begun.

He wasn't sure he could do it anymore.

But he wasn't sure he could walk away from him either.

And he certainly wasn't sure he could hand him over to Danny, like a lamb to the slaughter.

It suddenly made sense why he had disappeared so quickly, why he had shot off and left Ste to fend for himself at Danny's mercy. At least it meant Danny hadn't seen them together – he still had no idea they even knew each other, let alone exactly what they meant to each other.

Ste's mind was a hazy plethora of questions, and he couldn't deal with it right now. He got up and made his way back to the flat. All he wanted right now was a long, hot shower, a can of strong, cold lager, and a bit of Cheryl Cole on full blast whilst he got ready.

He would have this out with Brendan on their date later.

Despite it all he couldn't help but smile at the thought of going on a date with Brendan Brady.

He didn't care what Brendan said, it was definitely a date.

-s-

Brendan slammed the hotel door shut as soon as he had forced his was through it, leaning up against the door and sliding down onto the ground as he started to hyperventilate, his mind desperately trying to process what had just happened.

It wasn't just that he was fucking out of his mind shit-scared that Danny had found him. He was that, sure. He might be fucking fearless most of the time, but he had stolen two million pounds worth of drugs from right under Danny's nose, and had fled the country with his family when it became clear to him that Danny knew he was responsible. He knew Danny's reputation as much as Danny knew his, so for one of the first times in his life, he was scared.

But it wasn't just himself that he was scared for.

As soon as he had spotted Danny coming through the hotel lobby, his survival instincts had kicked in and he had darted off to hide behind one of the pillars – well out of sight, but still within earshot - and he had stayed to hear the start of Danny's little chat with his Steven.

And what he couldn't explain was that he had been more scared to learn that it was Danny that Steven owed a favour to, than he had been to learn that Danny had tracked him down and was after him. He feared more for Steven's life than he did for his own, and selfless concern was not something Brendan had ever experienced before, except for with his kids.

Steven was in Danny's debt.

And that was not a good place to be.

He had run off before hearing the end of their conversation – self-preservation kicking in as he knew he had to get himself as far away from Danny as he could – but he had heard as much as he needed to.

He said a silent prayer of thanks that Eileen had taken the boys away, that they weren't around for Danny to prey on and use as bait. That was something at least.

But Steven. Danny had a hold over Steven. _His Steven. _

And Brendan didn't like that one bit.

_**Please Review :) xxx**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Ok, so I'm feeling a little sheepish uploading this chapter because I've treated you lovely people very badly and not updated in aaaaages, but I'm hoping you will accept this chapter as my apology and forgive me because I'm giving you what is essentially 12,000 words of pure Stendan – no distractions, nobody else, just our rough and ready Irishman with his chavvy-licious prince ;)**_

_**Enjoy, and please review as always :) xxx**_

Day Nine Part 2

Ste was three cans of lager down as he sat out on the balcony after his shower. He checked his phone gingerly – it was just after 5.30pm – and he knew he was going to have to make a move soon. It hadn't escaped Ste's mind that he hadn't fully confirmed the details for his date with Brendan and he had been rather hoping he would be getting a text from the Irishman with a time and place to meet up, but so far he had maintained the radio silence.

Ste was still aware of himself coming across as desperate, and fought the urge to just pick up the phone and call him. He was aware of how his feelings were growing, told himself there was no way someone like Brendan would reciprocate his feelings and that he needed to calm himself down and look at it realistically. He was just an itch that needed scratching as far as Brendan was concerned – he was nothing more than a phone number Brendan would just delete when the plane touched back down in England; the 3D equivalent of a seedy porn film on a businessman's hotel receipt.

But he could deal with that.

He was sure he could hold himself together, that he could keep his ever growing feelings in check because he needed this – he needed to be closer to the Irishman than he had ever been to another man. He knew he would be one of many to Brendan, but Brendan would be the only one for him. For now.

He would have to move on – in a few days when he caught that plane home – but he could block that out of his mind right now and deal with that rejection when it would inevitably come.

What he couldn't deal with was if that rejection came tonight.

Ste jumped up at that thought and decided to stop chastising himself. So what if Brendan disappeared earlier and he hadn't heard a peep from him since? It didn't automatically mean he had heard his conversation with Danny. And it didn't mean Brendan had done a 180 on their plans for the evening.

He had to put any thoughts of Danny Houston and his indecent proposal to the back of his mind. He knew there was no way he could hand Brendan over into his line of fire – no way he could ever be that callous – so he tried to block the man out of his thoughts and concentrate on enjoying tonight. He would go to meet Danny tomorrow and just say that Brendan wasn't staying at the hotel, simple as that, and Danny would give up and move on. He hoped.

He would have to find a way to tell Brendan that Danny was here; that he was looking for him and that he needed to be careful – but that could wait for tomorrow. Nothing would stand in the way of him getting what he wanted out of Brendan tonight – not Danny Houston; not Eileen; not Anne – nobody. He hoped.

With his mind alive in anticipation of that thought, Ste grew a pair of balls and picked up his phone, flicked down his contacts and tapped on Brendan's ID, unable to suppress the smile at the name he'd used again.

He sighed heavily and sat back down in the white plastic chair out on his balcony. He heard the phone line connect and the dial tone start purring, and started to pick nervously at the frayed hem of the light denim cut offs that he had meticulously picked out half an hour earlier, along with a crisp white polo shirt – freshly ironed.

He was sure it had been 8, maybe 10 rings now, and when the line connected he was sure he would hear the woman with the standard monotone voicemail message on the other end, but he was greeted with silence instead. He hitched a breath in his throat, unsure if he should speak because this wasn't how a phone conversation usually went, and he panicked for a second thinking that he had dialled a completely wrong number by mistake.

He heard a sharp intake of breath down the line, however, and he knew it was Brendan. How can you tell someone apart by their breathing? It seemed ridiculous to Ste that he knew how this guy took in his oxygen and how that differed to the rest of the world, but he let it pass and supposed there were legitimate reasons why he would take a keen interest in the signs that Brendan was alive and well.

"Bren?" Ste asked after what felt like a lifetime of silence – an uncomfortable and strained absence of noise passing along the airwaves.

"Yes, Steven?" Brendan questioned after a short pause.

Why was he being so weird?

"So, we still on for tonight or what?" Ste asked teasingly, trying to make light of the conversation that seemed to have taken on a heavier tone than their last interaction for some unknown reason.

Ste heard a heavy breath at the end of the line and his heart started to race inside his chest. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. Brendan wanted this, surely; Ste wanted this so much he was almost hard at the mere prospect of it even happening. He was sure he had picked up on all the right signs throughout the day – the texting, the flirting, the obscenely inappropriate eye contact when Eileen and his kids had been present. He knew he was inexperienced when it came to being with a man, but surely the _signs _were all the same. Surely?

"Brendan?" he asked tentatively after far too much silence had passed between them.

"I don't... I..." Brendan tried to explain, stuttering over his words in a way that made Ste's stomach flip, and not in a good way. "I just don't -"

"No, Brendan," Ste interrupted, part out of panic and desperation, "Don't go giving me the brush off -"

"I wasn't giving you the brush off," Brendan protested back just as quickly, and Ste felt compelled to believe him by the urgency of his tone, "I just...I don't think we should be seen out in the resort together."

Ste screwed his face up in confusion – hoping his visual reaction could be translated across the phone line. Was Brendan ashamed of him?

"It's not that I'm ashamed or anything," Brendan reassured, as if he had read Ste's mind, "I just think it's...safer."

Ste got it then, knew why Brendan was so shifty all of a sudden.

Danny.

He must have seen him earlier. Well, of course he had seen him. Brendan had noticed Danny before Ste had, and had disappeared in a flash as soon as Ste turned his head. He'd had that same instinct to run that Ste had had but Brendan had obviously found the strength to make his feet move quickly enough.

Danny's words echoed through Ste's head. _I need to teach them a lesson. _Ste blanched slightly as the chill ran through him at that thought. Brendan was in danger – real fucking danger - and it made sense. It made total, complete and ridiculously obvious sense that they couldn't be seen out together in public.

What would Danny think if he happened to spy the two of them out on a cosy table-for-two in some beachfront restaurant, or sneaking off for a cheeky few seconds in a store cupboard or a bathroom stall together. How would Ste explain that to Danny tomorrow?

He wouldn't hold that against Brendan. But he wouldn't give up on everything he was hoping to get out of tonight either.

"I want to see you," Ste let out unashamedly. There was no way he was going to let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers, and in all honesty a night _in _with Brendan was what he had been after in the first place, rather than a night _out._

"I know," Brendan conceded quickly and with a gravelly tone to his voice, "I want to see you too."

Ste was taken aback slightly with how raw and emotional the statement sounded from Brendan's lips. He sighed away the rising emotion in his own lungs, his heart beginning to race.

"You could come to mine," Ste suggested, "I could cook for you. For us."

His suggestion was met with silence, but Ste could tell the tension on the line had shifted. He could almost see the smile beginning to play over Brendan's face, and smiled to himself in response.

"You can cook?" Brendan asked, hint of amusement dancing through his words.

"I'm not bad," Ste smiled back.

"I'll be the judge of that," Brendan teased knowingly.

Ste smiled broadly now, and the silence between them stretched a little further, but this time it was an easy silence; comfortable.

"When shall I come round?" Brendan asked eventually.

"Come now?" Ste asked, unsure if he was being too eager, but he needn't have worried.

"I've already left," Brendan whispered down the the phone, just as desperate for this as Ste was, and the call cut off before Ste had the chance to reply.

He put the phone down on the table on the balcony and stood up, watching the hotel entrance like a hawk, smile spreading over his face as he saw Brendan dart out hurriedly moments later. He watched the Irishman crossing the road, felt a chill rush down his spine as he eyed the man below and thought about what they were about to do; about how such a god-like creature was rushing across the road because he was eager to see _him; _about how he was so ready to give himself over to him to intimately. He had been with girls before, had experienced sexual pleasure, but judging by the tasters he had already been offered by the Irishman he knew there was a whole new world of pleasure that Brendan could offer him – that he _would _offer him this evening. The mere thought was sending blood rushing to his vital organ.

He headed back inside and took a quick look through his cupboards, mind rushing all of a sudden with mild panic over what he could cook for Brendan and how he could impress him. The cupboards were almost bare, and he kicked himself for not going food shopping the day before as he had promised Anne. He prayed he would find some form of meat in the freezer – he could tell Brendan was one of those it's-not-a-meal-unless-there's-meat-on-it kind of people – and was relieved to find some chicken. He quickly put it on defrost in the microwave and rooted through the cupboard to find something – anything – that he could serve it with.

He was interrupted by a banging on the door, taken aback by how insistent it was, and ran to open it with just as much urgency. Brendan stood on the other side, leaning up against the door frame with a look of pure longing in his eyes.

Ste couldn't help himself, he threw himself into Brendan's chest and grabbed his hands behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss so fierce he had no idea he was capable of it. Brendan grunted in shock at the impact, his arms flying out but he settled into it, worked his tongue back into Ste's mouth after taking a second to adjust and then his hands were at his waist, sliding around his back and pulling his slight frame closer, his body heat warming through him and _fuck _this felt like home.

He pulled away though, couldn't let himself get carried away in his hallway despite how much he could have just ripped Steven's clothes off right away. They were still in danger of Danny seeing them and there was no way he was going to put Steven at risk.

"Ye missed me or somethin', Steven?" he asked suggestively as he pushed him back through his own front door.

"Don't flatter yourself," Ste sassed back at him, face alive with desire to contradict his words.

Brendan laughed in response and turned to close the door behind them now they were inside. Steven was smiling back at him, and he was about to rush forwards and pin him to the sofa when the microwave pinged and he returned back to the kitchen.

"So when ye said ye could cook I was expecting more than a microwave meal, Steven," Brendan teased as he watched Steven working around the kitchen, "Even I can work out how they're done and I've been paid to stay _out _of the kitchen more times than I can remember."

Steven turned to face him, displaying the plate of now defrosted chicken he had removed from the microwave.

"I just used it to defrost the chicken, actually, smartarse," Ste sassed back, "I am a trained chef, y'know?".

Brendan quirked an eyebrow at that – how convenient.

"Trained where?" he asked, intrigued all of a sudden.

"Just at my old job, like, before I came out here, was just a little restaurant near Chester."

"Oh yeah? Why d'you give it up then?"

"The place burnt down – not my fault before you say anything clever – so I was out of a job," Ste explained, "So I ended up here. After a few detours."

Brendan stood leaning against the breakfast bar as he watched Ste opening and closing doors, standing up occasionally and reading aloud the ingredients on each jar or bottle or sachet he pulled out before shaking his head and throwing it back into the depths of his kitchen cupboards. Brendan smiled as he watched him at work, surprised to find it strangely calming to watch the boy doing something he was clearly passionate about. He felt so easy in the boys company - something he wasn't sure he had ever felt before. He couldn't explain it; didn't know why it was so different with Ste to how it was with other people. He didn't have to put up the front, pretending he was something - or someone - that he wasn't, and he didn't have anything to hide from the boy. He trusted him. Didn't know why - didn't know what the boy had done to get him to feel like this - but he did trust him. And that made him so relaxed in his presence.

"What are your thoughts on garlic?" Ste asked as he pulled a clove out of the top cupboard, alongside a red onion, some mushrooms and Worcestershire sauce.

"Garlic?" Brendan asked, intrigued. "I like garlic. It makes me...hungry."

He shot a wink in Ste's direction and saw the lust flash through his eyes when the boy caught his drift, a satisfied smile covering his face that made him look so fucking adorable his swore his heart picked up its pace inside his chest.

"Well that's definitely going in then," Ste confirmed with a wink. He took out a chopping board and knife and placed them in front of Brendan with an onion. "Give us a hand."

"What?" Brendan looked up at him in utter confusion.

"Chop that up for me, will ya?" Ste asked as he pulled out the saucepan and started heating the olive oil.

"How?"

"What d'ya mean how? Surely you don't get to your age without learning how to chop an onion?" Ste asked incredulously. He genuinely couldn't believe the look of total ineptitude on Brendan's face. "Give it 'ere," he laughed after a moment of silence, taking the onion from Brendan's hand and dicing it up himself in seconds.

Ste flung the onion into the pan and got started on the garlic then mushrooms, chatting away happily to Brendan as he did so.

"Anne doesn't let me cook with garlic, y'know, says she can smell it a mile off and she has a right moan if I even try to cook with it. Says she's allergic but how can you be allergic to garlic? It's like our Leah says she's allergic to peas but what's there to be allergic from in a pea? She just doesn't plain like them and thinks she can get away with not eating them, must think I'm stupid."

"Leah your little girl?" Brendan asked warily, memory flitting back to that second day when he had seen Steven so angry after a phone call with his kids mother.

He needn't have worried as Ste seemed to start beaming with pride.

"Yeah, she's a proper little madam, can't believe the stuff her mam lets her get away with."

"How old is she?" Brendan asked, remembering the little girl in the photo he saw on Steven's bedside table a few days ago.

"She's nearly 6 now, can't believe how quick it goes, can ya, seems only yesterday we was panicking about Ames being up the duff," he laughed at Brendan. "Beer?"

"Sure," Brendan replied as Ste opened up the fridge and passed him a bottle, along with another one for Brendan to open and give back to Ste.

"Cheers" Ste nodded as they clinked glasses, Brendan smiling in return.

Ste returned his attention back to the cooking, throwing in the chicken.

"So what's on the menu tonight, Gordon Ramsey?" Brendan quipped.

"Eurgh, no, I'm more of a Nigella thank you very much," Ste reprimanded playfully.

"Oh yeah?" Brendan questioned, "How'd ye work that out?"

Ste didn't say anything in return, just dipped his finger into the sauce and turned to look at Brendan, peering up at him through his lashes and pulling his best seduction face Nigella-style as he licked the sauce from his finger. He couldn't help but notice the change in Brendan's expression, the way he swallowed down and watched Ste's tongue run up and down. It was fucking hot to realise how much power he could wield over the Irishman if he wanted to.

Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, Brendan had grabbed Ste by the wrist and pulled him forwards, encircling his other hand around Ste's waist and planting his lips onto the boys with such determination and insistence that it literally took Ste's breath away. He swiped his tongue against Brendan's lip and felt him open up and let him inside, and their tongues were playing together again, dancing this routine they had come to learn so well, the taste becoming so familiar to both of them yet insatiable all the same.

Ste felt himself getting lost in it completely, surrendering to the _man _before him. And he was all man, every single thing about him exuded masculinity. His perfectly sculpted, strong, muscular physique; his whole presence - the way he spoke, the way he walked; the way he devoted so much of his life to protecting those closest to him. He was all man, and Ste couldn't wait to become a part of him.

But the hissing sound of the saucepan distracted him and he pulled away with a smile on his face.

"Gerrof, me chicken's burning," he smirked as he turned his attention back to the cooking. He guessed Brendan wouldn't mind if it was a little overdone, as long as it was food, but for Ste it was important to him to make a good first impression when it came to the cooking.

He had no idea why that was so important to him – it's not like he would ever really get a chance to make a second impression. This was a one time only thing – he knew that. This was a holiday fling for Brendan. He wouldn't even go so far as to say a holiday romance – there wasn't going to be anything romantic where Brendan was involved, Ste was sure about that.

He felt Brendan's eyes on his back as he added his final ingredient, squirting the mayonnaise out of the bottle and avoiding the glare from the Irishman.

"Mayonnaise?" Brendan asked with disdain from behind him. "You're treating me to chicken and mayonnaise."

"Eyar, it's better than it sounds," Ste retorted with a smile as he stirred the sauce together, "Don't judge it just yet alright!"

"I'm not judging _it, _I'm judging _you _right now -"

"Don't be so harsh, I bet you'll be eating your words later," Ste insisted.

"Along with chicken and mayonnaise, tasty," Brendan teased back as he watched Ste chop up the potatoes into wedges and place them in the oven.

"Right then," Ste turned his attention to Brendan, "It'll be ready in twenty minutes. Shall we take these drinks onto the balcony?"

"Sure thing," Brendan replied as he followed Ste outside, eyes immediately working their way down his body and mouth salivating at the sight of his perfect arse as he walked away. He almost lost sight of himself and flushed slightly when Ste reached the window and turned round to catch him staring.

"See something you like?" he asked seductively. He couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth – had never thought he would be so confident with what he was about to do. For the first time.

"Uh-huh." Brendan replied, cool as anything. He wasn't ashamed – not up here, hidden away from the rest of the world; not when all that mattered here was him and Steven.

"Behave," Ste teased back, opening the balcony door and holding it open for Brendan to follow him out.

They sat and talked with each other at ease, discussing nothing important and everything all the same. Ste told Brendan about Leah and Lucas, about how he had only been a kid himself when they were born but they were the proudest things in his life. He asked Brendan about Declan and Paddy, and Brendan told him all he could, but he couldn't help feel a pang of displeasure at the thought that he didn't know his own kids as well as Ste knew his, when he lived with Dec and Paddy and Steven lived away from his kids. He knew he was an absent father – but some kinds of father were better off away from their kids. His own dad had been like that; he was too – for totally different reasons, of course. He distanced himself from his kids out of kindness, for their own sakes; and because he didn't know how to be a good dad. He'd never experienced one of those, so didn't know how to be one.

Despite trying to skirt around the issue of their abusive parents, they learnt about each others upbringing – Brendan in Dublin where his parents owned a pub, and Ste in Manchester where his mom and step-dad owned nothing at all apart from hot property which belonged to some unfortunate stranger with an insurance claim. Brendan spoke about his sister, Cheryl, who he was sure would love to go on a night out with Ste and could probably be friends in another life.

Brendan tried to act as relaxed as possible, tried to answer all of Steven's questions with some degree of enthusiasm, tried to come across as invested in their conversation as Ste was. And it wasn't that he wasn't interested – he loved hearing the boy talk with such passion about everything he held dear to him – but he just couldn't wipe the image of Danny Houston from his mind.

It wasn't so much concern that Danny had found him – and he didn't even know if he had done yet, he had only found Steven so far – but it was more concern that Danny had an interest in his boy. He had always been so apathetic when it came to Vinnie or Macca – their presence was merely convenient for him to be able to get this _thing _out of his system. But Steven was more than that. Already, and without Brendan intending for it to happen. Without Brendan even being aware of it or the reasons for it. Steven had already changed everything.

He couldn't bear the thought of anyone taking Steven from him, much less Danny Houston. He had heard enough of their conversation earlier – knew Steven owed him, hadn't stayed around long enough to find out what for or how he planned to get Steven to repay him, and he was itching to find out. He needed to know what hold Danny had over Ste – needed to know how he owed him – and only then could Brendan start to protect Steven from that world he lived in, regardless of the consequences on himself.

He didn't bring it up though – not yet. He felt somewhat calm and relaxed, despite the nagging thought in the back of his mind. Steven was chattering away animatedly and talking about his kids, about Anne, about Amy and about his life back home. He was talking about his job, about how he enjoyed it but felt like he was wearing a mask all the time, about how he wasn't always as cheery as he came across.

Brendan smiled at that, remembering how the boy had grated on him when he had first met him on the airport transfer.

"You did come across a bit...how do I put this...over-excited to begin with," Brendan butted in with an amused smile on his face.

Ste gasped in mild displeasure. "How rude! All I was doing was trying to make you feel good about being on holiday."

Brendan smiled back at him, endeared by his commitment to his job description.

"Oh, you've done that alright," Brendan replied with a wink.

Ste giggled back at him – actually giggled. He felt like a school kid with a crush, couldn't help the way his body was making him feel.

"You surprised me more than anyone else, you know," Ste replied back, his tone taking on an air of seriousness that seemed so unfamiliar in their encounters even now.

Brendan raised an eyebrow and was about to make some sarcastic comment about how he could continue to surprise him later on, but a beeping sound starting filtering through from the kitchen and Ste jumped up to fetch their dinner.

Moments later he came wandering out with two plates, placing the much bigger portion in front of Brendan much to his satisfaction.

"Now don't be complaining just 'cause you know it's like the dregs of my kitchen cupboards," Ste warned as he handed Brendan a knife and fork and returned to the kitchen to get another beer.

Brendan had to admit he was impressed, even the way it had been presented on the plate screamed of professional chef and he was eager to try it out. As soon as Ste returned with his beer and sat down opposite him on the balcony, he started to load up his fork.

He winced to himself when he realised how civilised this was – how much like a _date _it seemed. He didn't want to let the lad get carried away. He had to stay true to what this was at the end of the day. Fuck caring about what Danny did to him. Fuck thinking about the boy all day when he wasn't there. Fuck being more concerned over this boys safety than he was over his own. He was Brendan Brady, and Steven was nothing more than a holiday fuck. He could enjoy him for the next few days, and then he would return to his life in the suburbs and never think of the boy again.

That's just how it had to be.

He sighed out the unease he felt about his passing thoughts – how he knew deep down that he felt differently; that there was something within him that he was forcing himself to _not _feel – and he concentrated on the meal in front of him. He hadn't realised how hungry he was.

And boy this meal was good. Brendan took his first bite and let out an actual groan with pleasure, feeling the need to take his time over the meal for once when he would usually wolf it down.

"What you put in this?" Brendan asked between mouthfuls, watching the lad smile as he took in Brendan's appreciative expression.

"Just whatever was left in the cupboard," Steven replied. "Is it any good?"

"Not bad," Brendan answered with a smile as he took another mouthful. "I guess you were right – you certainly can cook. Is there no end to your talents?"

"I guess we'll see," Steven teased back with a glint in his eye.

They enjoyed their meal as Steven relayed tales from his time as a holiday rep, funny stories about people falling off the boat on the sunset cruise or having to rescue one girl from embarrassment when she had her clothes stolen whilst skinny dipping at midnight after one of the bar crawls.

Brendan listened on intently, laughing in all the right places and taking the time to look over this enigma sat before him. He had no idea how Steven had found his way inside, how he had broken down the barriers so easily when so many others had failed. He wondered whether it was his beauty – he was easily the most beautiful thing Brendan had ever seen. His skin was not only a delectable golden brown thanks to his time in the sun, but was so soft to the touch – all over, he remembered well – and not a single imperfection on it. His body was exactly what Brendan lusted over – skinny but toned, his abs barely there but defined enough that Brendan could run his fingers in the grooves down his stomach, his hip bones marking out such a kissable path down to his velvety-smooth cock, so much bigger than Brendan had anticipated from what he could remember.

But it wasn't just his body or his looks – it was Steven as person who had sunk into his, dare he say it, his _heart. _Steven was strong; on the outside he was confident and full of life, but behind those sharp blue eyes Brendan could see the pain; could see damage similar to his own reflected back at him and he felt the longing urge to make this right for him – to wipe away the pain and replace it with the happiness other people saw in him because they never bothered to look any further. He was vulnerable – so fucking vulnerable – and it latched right into all of his instincts to protect the boy.

Quite simply, he was like nobody Brendan had ever met before. And he couldn't let Danny hurt him – not now, not ever.

He wanted to avoid it – didn't want Steven to know that he had overheard it all; didn't want to have to run the risk of explaining to Steven why he knew Danny and why he had to stay away from him. But running the risk of Danny hurting Steven was of far greater consequence to him, for whatever reason, and he couldn't not bring it up. He couldn't do what he was planning to do to this beautiful creature in a matter of minutes and enjoy it as he should do with this hanging over his head. He needed to confront it.

He waited until Steven had cleared the plates and followed him back inside to watch him washing up. It was now or never.

"So, we gonna talk about it?" Brendan asked reluctantly, leaning against the side and tapping the worktop with his fingers out of nervous apprehension. He chanced a glance up in Steven's direction and caught his eyeline, saw nothing but confusion in his expression. Maybe he was going to have to spell this out for the boy.

"About what?" Ste asked as he drained off the last of the plates and reached for the towel to start drying.

Brendan picked the towel up before Steven could reach it and started the drying himself, receiving an appreciative smile in reply. Ste took the plates off Brendan as he dried them and returned them to the cupboards, smiling like a schoolgirl as he did so because the two of them just seemed to _fit _together in such perfect harmony. Brendan caught his eyeline and smiled back, his imagination wandering now but he stopped himself, knew he had to get this conversation over and done with.

"About how we seem to have a mutual friend, Steven?" Brendan replied dryly.

"What's mutual mean?" Steven asked breezily, none the wiser.

Brendan smiled. The lad was clearly intelligent, had strengths where Brendan was clueless – he had just knocked up a delicious meal from dregs out of the cupboard and mayonnaise for gods sake; he clearly had talent. But he was beginning to realise literacy wasn't one of his strong points.

He decided to put it bluntly for the boy.

"It means what the fuck would Mr Daniel Houston be doing coming up to you in Reception earlier?"

Brendan watched on as Steven's expression dropped, the light behind his eyes seeming to fade as his lips twitched with words he wanted to throw out there; denial and subterfuge and protestations of innocence. But instead he was silent.

He couldn't lie to Brendan. Despite the panic that was surging up through him like bile rising in his throat; and despite the fact that Brendan himself was the very subject of his chat with Danny earlier - he couldn't lie to him. Physically couldn't let anything but the truth slip from his lips.

"What did you do Steven?" Brendan asked out of frustration as he waited for Steven's answer.

"I didn't do owt," Ste replied gingerly, turning to face away from him and walk back to the sofa because he wasn't technically lying – he hadn't _done_ anything to Danny himself – but he was still hiding something and he knew Brendan would see it if he faced him right now.

Brendan could see it anyway, though. Of course he could.

"What so he just took up an interest in you out of the blue?" Brendan pressed. He knew Danny Houston – knew men of his type – and they didn't offer up favours for nothing.

Ste exhaled sharply, returning his gaze to Brendan as his mind raced with questions – could he trust Brendan? Could he trust him with the truth? He knew he could. But was he ready for him to know about that side of his life?

"It's complicated," Ste offered, all too aware it wouldn't dissuade the Irishman but it was worth a try.

"Complicated how?" Brendan asked straight back, as expected.

"Dunt matter, does it?" Ste replied, trying his best to play it down when he was all too well aware that Brendan wasn't the type to give it up.

"Oh right, so I've got nothing to worry about, yeah?" Brendan asked, tone dripping in sarcasm.

"Why would you be worried?" Ste pouted back at him, and the look on his face made Brendan's breath hitch in his throat. He looked so fucking kissable when he was being defensive.

"What do you...Of course...Why...why _wouldn't _I be worried about ye, Steven?" Brendan stuttered, struggling to find the words because he _did _care – he cared what happened to the boy – but he couldn't even admit that himself, so how was he meant to say it aloud to Steven? How was he meant to open up to him like that?

But Ste noticed his hesitation, saw his reluctance to let him see inside before he heard his words; saw the drop in his expression before he let the idea of Brendan being worried about him permeate through and Brendan regretted it straight away; wished he could have had the strength to give the boy something, to give him an indication about what this was to him, to make him believe that he did actually care.

"See, dunt matter, like I said," Steven replied, feigning satisfaction that he had proved himself right, that he had challenged Brendan to give him something to build upon but the Irishman had backed down, hesitated enough to bring Ste crashing back down to earth because there was nothing there, no real concern behind his eyes.

Brendan saw the crushing realisation in Steven's expression and he had to stop it. He didn't want to be the one to make Steven feel that way, to cause him pain. He remembered the boys words from the beach all those nights ago after he had lashed out at him – how nobody got to hurt him _any more_ – and he knew the boy had been through pain in his life. He didn't want to add to that. He wanted to give him something to work off; give him a tiny glimpse into what he was feeling, even if it was scaring him shitless right now.

"It matters, Steven," Brendan replied earnestly, drawing the strength from somewhere within him to be able to say those words to the boy. He walked over and sat next to Steven on the sofa, bending his head so as to catch Ste's eyeline and swallowing hard as he did so, trying to draw up the courage inside of him to be a tiny bit of the person that Steven deserved to see. "It matters to me. Ok? It matters to me if you're safe. It matters to me when you're getting beaten up in the street. It matters to me when I'm scared to crack a joke and make you laugh because I can still see you wincing from the pain in your ribs. It matters to me when you're sitting there acting like nothings going on but I can see that you're scared. It matters to me that you're owing favours to people like Danny Houston. It matters to me that I don't know what you've got yourself into, and that I don't know if I can keep you safe from it. It all matters to me. _You _matter to me, Steven."

He watched on as Steven's expression changed, how his features softened out and his pout turned slowly into a smile; how his eyes flickered back into life as if something had been reignited behind them as the confession tumbled out of his mouth. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret – fully aware that he had said far too much, had admitted things to himself in that moment that he wasn't ready to face yet, but he couldn't deny the warmth that rushed through him at Steven's reaction, at how fucking adorable he looked now that he was reassured. He felt something unfamiliar in his gut, something that seemed a lot like pride at having been able to give that to Steven – but his ingrained self-hatred wouldn't let him be proud of that, surely? A good catholic boy like him couldn't feel pride at some pseudo-confession of affection for another man. Surely.

He was pulled back from the edge of his spiralling thoughts by Steven's voice, soft and uncertain, feeble compared to his usual confidence, and Brendan was drawn to it. He was opening up, letting him in, telling him the answers Brendan needed to hear.

"I, erm... I just...I got in a bit of trouble back home," Ste started, pausing to look up at Brendan and waiting for his nod of encouragement before continuing. "After I lost my job at the restaurant, I was just desperate for money – for the kids an' that – and I did some pretty stupid stuff."

Ste bowed his head out of shame, and Brendan felt regret at having to make Steven relive this part of his past. But he _needed _to know.

"I started dealing," Ste continued, wincing through the memories, "Pissed off the wrong person, and Danny helped me out."

Brendan waited to him to continue – he could tell there was more to this story but Ste seemed to have stopped. He wasn't ready to offer anything more – not yet. But Brendan needed more.

"Helped you out how?" he asked softly.

"I don't really wanna talk about it -"

"Helped you out how, Steven?" Brendan asked again, interrupting his feeble attempt to dodge the question because he needed to know.

"He just...He got me and the kids out of danger, and he threatened the guy who tried to hurt them," he paused, "That's all I'm telling ya."

"There's more to this story -"

"Yeah, but I ain't telling you that now," Ste bit back, tired of the interrogation now when he had his own questions for Brendan.

"Steven, please," Brendan pressed, "Tell me. Tell me so I can help you."

"How're you gonna help me, Brendan?" Ste pressed back, deciding it was time to turn the tables and pull the attention away from himself. "You're not exactly in a position to help me are ya? I know about you, Brendan. I know about you and Danny."

"What?" Brendan shot back in panic, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I know, Brendan. I know you stole from him."

Brendan stood up and started to pace around the room. Steven knew who he was, sure – he had a reputation back in England and it wasn't surprising that the boy had heard of him. But what he did across Danny – how did the boy know about that?

"How...How do you know?" Brendan asked, voice cracking slightly with the panic running through his system.

Ste answered him gingerly, "Danny told me, Brendan. He knows it was you that stole from him -"

"Why...why would he tell you about me, Steven? It makes no sense?" Brendan interrupted, panic making his temper shorten.

"Don't you get it, Brendan?" Ste explained, "He knows you're here, right. He's not come all this way to call in my favour – he's not here for me, Brendan – he's here for you!"

Brendan stopped dead as he realised the impact of what Steven was telling him, kicking himself for running off when he did earlier on and not stopping to hear the whole conversation between Steven and Danny, clear now that he had missed the vital part.

Danny had found him. Danny Houston. Danny who had been the whole reason he had had to pack his whole family up at a moments notice and ship them over here; Danny who he had stolen £2 million worth of drugs from in the biggest heist of his career; Danny who had a reputation as the least forgiving of all their type, second only to Brendan Brady himself.

Danny had found him. Danny was here to take revenge on him.

This was bad.

"Wh...Why was he...what did he say, Steven?" Brendan asked as he sat himself down on the sofa, leg jittering away and betraying his racing heartbeat.

"Well he doesn't know for certain you're here," Ste explained, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible because he couldn't help the urge to try to make things better for Brendan; the urge to calm him down.

"Ye sure?" Brendan asked, grasping onto the hope that he could avoid this.

"Yeah, he said you used your credit card here last week, but he said he's been calling Reception and dropping in but no-one will give him any information about you," Ste explained.

Brendan sucked at his teeth. Fucking Eileen, using his card for her stupid fucking excursions. Damnit.

"There's more," Ste added – he couldn't keep this from Brendan. Now he'd started he had no reason to stop. "He wants to call in the favour I owe him -"

"How?" Brendan interrupted with urgency.

"He wants me to tell him where you are. Hand you over to him."

Ste dipped his head in shame, suddenly feeling a little uneasy that he had taken up until now to admit it to Brendan. He hoped the Irishman didn't think he'd considered going through with it, prayed that his reluctance to tell Brendan the truth didn't appear as temptation to go through with Danny's request.

"This isn't good," Brendan whispered out loud as he got up and started pacing the room again. "How does he even know about us?"

Despite himself and despite their situation, Ste couldn't help but feel a slight buzz rush through him at Brendan describing the two of them as an 'us'.

"He doesn't," Ste braved a smile as the realisation hit him. "He doesn't know about us. He doesn't even know that we know each other -"

"Are you sure?" Brendan asked hurriedly.

"Yeah, yeah I'm sure," Ste replied with conviction. "He doesn't even know you're here for sure Brendan, and when he was telling me about you he didn't have a clue that I'd know who you are. He wants me to check the hotel systems for your name and then meet him tomorrow to let him know if you're staying at the hotel or not. He hasn't got a clue about...about this...y'know...about us."

Brendan took a while to let it sink in. If Danny thought he was using Ste to turn Brendan over, then they already had the upper hand over him. They could use this to their advantage.

"He thinks you don't know me?" Brendan said, thinking aloud as a plan started to form.

"Yeah," Ste confirmed.

"That's...interesting."

Brendan was smiling now, the panic all of a sudden drained from his face and Ste could see the cogs turning, could tell Brendan was onto something and it calmed him. He trusted the Irishman, and he hoped he knew a way out of this mess.

"What are we gonna do?" Ste asked hopefully.

"Don't worry about it Steven," Brendan assured him, "You need to tell him I'm here -"

"No!" Ste interrupted, grabbing Brendan's attention.

"What do you mean no?" Brendan asked.

"I mean no! I cant just hand you over to him -"

"He'll find out if you don't -"

"I don't care!" Ste insisted. "I know what Danny's like and I can't let him, no way -"

"Ye have to," Brendan continued. "I know Danny too, Steven, and I know what he's capable of. I'm not having you exposed to that, no way. I won't let you -"

"Since when was it your decision what I do?" Steven sassed back at him.

Brendan let out a groan in response. He couldn't deny that it was this side of the boy that he was drawn to – his fire and his passion. His face took on a whole new level of beauty when it was alive like this, and for a moment it stunned him, stopped him in his tracks and he couldn't articulate what he needed to say. He couldn't tell the boy what to do – who was he to Steven anyway – but he couldn't let him put himself in further danger than he was in already.

"Brendan, look," Ste started as he stood up and walked over to Brendan, stopping right before him and placing a hand against the Irishman's chest. "I can't just hand you over to him. He'll kill you. Or worse, and I can't -"

"I'll only get what I deserve, Steven," Brendan conceded, daring to look into the boy's eyes that were so full of concern and something that looked so much like love that it scared him.

"I can't let that happen," Steven replied, smoothing his hand up to cup Brendan's cheek. "Not when...not when I..."

Steven trailed off and moved forwards instead, placing a sweet, lingering kiss against Brendan's lips. He wanted to respond, wanted so much to put all of this to the back of his mind and just enjoy the lad, but he couldn't leave it without getting his point across.

"You need to meet with him Steven," Brendan pushed gently, snaking his hands around Steven's waist and pulling him in closer, until he only had to speak with a whisper. He could feel Steven hardening below him, and knew where it was heading, but he tried to focus on the boy's face as he continued. "If you don't meet with him, he'll know something's up and he'll come looking for you. If you meet him and tell him I'm not here, and he finds out otherwise, then he'll be straight back to you looking for answers. I can't have you hurt again – certainly not because of me."

"You need to be careful, Brendan -"

"So do you, Steven. Meet him tomorrow, tell him I'm here, see what he wants you to do. We can find a way out of this, together, but I won't have you putting yourself in danger to protect me, Steven. No way."

He leant down and pressed a soft kiss to Steven's lips. Maybe now they had that out of the way they could concentrate on the more important things in life.

"You almost sounds as if you care," Steven smirked as he pulled back from the kiss. His eyes were doing that thing again, where they dance as if they're alive for the first time, glancing between his eyes and his lips and his pupils are so blown wide with lust that Brendan's almost embarrassed to not be devouring him right there and then.

"Well maybe it matters to me if you're alive or not," Brendan admitted between kisses. It was already more than he had ever offered anybody else, but he suppressed the fear inside of him and submitted to his body's yearning.

"Oh yeah?" Ste flirted back, "So what would you miss if I was gone?"

Brendan laughed – a low, growling kind of laugh that betrayed each and every one of his sordid thoughts about the boy before him. "I'd miss...the way you fish for compliments, I guess" he said with a raised eyebrow.

Ste laughed at him – his infectious and hideously annoying donkey-like laugh that Brendan couldn't believe could possibly come from such a delicate and beautiful creature. It was wholly unnatural, but endearing all the same, and he felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of it.

"I wouldn't miss that fucking laugh of yours," Brendan teased, smirking at the mock-offence strewn over Steven's face.

"You love my laugh," Ste challenged, and Brendan kissed him in response, couldn't even deny it further.

"I wouldn't miss the way you answer me back all the time," Brendan added, punctuating his words with sweet chaste kisses against his lovers pouting smile. "Or the way you never do what you're told. Or that you're the most stubborn person I've ever met in my life," Brendan continued, still kissing him in between each word, "I wouldn't miss the way you talk like a little scally -"

Ste pulled away after a while, smile spread wide across his face. "I don't believe you," he challenged.

"Oh no?" Brendan replied.

"No," Ste assured him, "'Cause I reckon them are your favourite things about me, deep down."

"Oh really?" Brendan teased.

"Yeah"

"Yeah? Well you're wrong."

"Oh am I?" Ste questioned, pulling on Brendan's shirt now, walking backwards as they teased each other, starting to work on the buttons of Brendan's shirt as he walked with him, heading towards the door Brendan knew opened up to Steven's room.

"Yeah, you're wrong," Brendan confirmed, watching as the setting sun glared through the window and cast it's rays upon the boys face, his cheekbones casting shadows and the dim light making his golden brown colour look even more delectable. "My favourite thing," Brendan continued seductively, "Is how fucking beautiful you look in this light."

And with that, Brendan surged forwards, took the boys face in his hands and kissed him – deeply, passionately, and with everything he could give to him. Steven opened up for him, and their tongues brushed savagely against one another, devouring each other unashamedly because _fuck _they both wanted this, wanted it so much it had been all they had both thought about for days now, had been the ever present urge that neither of them could deny.

Brendan released Steven's face from his grasp and stroked his hands down, smoothing over his chest and snaking around his waist, pulling the boy close and then hoisting him up; Steven getting the message instantly and pulling both his legs up to surround Brendan's waist. Brendan groaned as he took his weight – light as a feather but he still needed to adjust slightly, and they both laughed as Steven rolled his hips forward, friction against their swollen cocks letting a wave of pleasure run through them.

Steven's bedroom door was closed, and Brendan pushed the boy up against the door when they reached it, grinding his crotch against Steven's and groaning as he felt the boy's solid length between them, rubbing delicious friction against his own erection and _jeez _he wasn't sure he'd ever been this hard, anticipation of what was about to come and how long he'd waited for it.

Brendan stumbled as the door gave way behind them, realising Ste had reached down and turned the handle to let them in. He laughed into Steven's mouth, catching it with another kiss as he pushed them both inside the room, walking the pair of them back towards the bed. He slid his hands down and hooked them under the hem of Steven's t-shirt, pulling away from the lad for an agonising second to bring his top up over his head and feel his soft skin in his palms, burning up from the heat they were generating between them.

He dropped Steven down on the bed, climbing over him and nestling his knees in between the boys spread legs, smiling in satisfaction at the look of pure lust emanating from his deep blue eyes as his hands grabbed at his neck, pulling them together to continue their assault of each others senses, kissing each other deeply and passionately, tongues exploring each other, searching for the infinite pleasure they knew they could find within each other like this.

Steven was moving his hands now, dragging his fingers down the line from Brendan's neck, along his shoulder and under the collar of his shirt as he continued to kiss him; prizing open the buttons as he continued to glide his hands down, further down and down until he could hook his hands into each side of the material and drag it back across the older man's shoulders, all too aware of the shiver-induced goosepimples that started to spread over Brendan's skin beneath his gentle touch.

Brendan's hand ran down the length of his body then, grabbing at the globes of his arse and pulling his thigh up, and Ste knew what he wanted. He was all too eager to oblige, bringing his thighs up and locking his ankles behind Brendan's back, trying to create that agonising friction once more but the thick denim of his shorts was too much, too much of a barrier and he needed to be without them.

He was about to unhook his legs to rid himself of his trousers when he felt Brendan's hand moving below the waistband of his shorts, slipping around to his back and hooking under his boxers at the same time as he pushed his hand down, finger tracing the line of his cheeks and suddenly he was _there, _right over his hole, where he had never been touched before and his body jolted with it, panic starting to rise and it all felt too quick, felt too much and he didn't even know if Brendan was aware of it, aware of what he was about to give to him, and his finger was massaging the rim of his hole now and he stiffened beneath him, his whole body jarring with uncertainty.

Brendan felt the cool of the evening breeze pass across his chest and panicked when he realised it was because Steven had pulled away; had brought his hand between their bodies and was pushing Brendan up and away from him. He looked down at the boy with confusion, but he wasn't met with the regret or unease his actions would suggest – instead it was closer to apprehension and innocence on the boy's face.

"You ok?" Brendan asked him out of concern.

Ste smiled back, unsure of himself. He couldn't quite find the right words.

"If you want me to stop, I'll stop," Brendan assured him, would never want the boy to feel forced upon.

"I don't want you to stop," Steven replied, biting down on his lip as his gaze travelled over Brendan's shirtless body. He wasn't sure he had ever seen anyone so masculine, so perfectly formed - all strong shoulders and arms, lithe torso, and just the right amount of hair in the right places.

"I don't want you to stop, Brendan," Steven repeated, and his voice was hot and needy, dripping with lust that he wanted to desperately to let Brendan quench him of.

"What is it then?" Brendan asked, torn between pushing the lad too far and carrying on regardless.

"It's just...I've never...I haven't...done this before," Ste confessed, unable to look Brendan in the eye as he confessed his innocence.

"Done what?" Brendan asked without thinking.

"Done _this,_" Ste confirmed, "With another man."

"Oh," Brendan realised – and how could he not have known? How could he have let the knowledge of him being the first man to touch Steven _like that _pass him by?

His whole body shivered with it, desperate for the boy now more than he ever had been before. Something about it made him feel powerful; feel dominant and _important _at the same time.

He'd been Vinnie's first, and Macca's too. He'd enjoyed _taking _what he could from them – taking their virginity, being the one to _own _that part of them that no other man could ever have after him.

But with Steven it felt different. He was excited _for _him; wanted to open his eyes to this whole new world; wanted to be the one to make him experience pleasure like he never would have known before. He still felt that possessiveness – it was still making him hard to know that no other man had seen Steven come apart at the brink of orgasm like he was about to – but it was about so much more than that with Steven. And he wouldn't take it carnally from him either. He knew he feared sounding like an over-romaticised Hollywood cliché, but he wanted to take care of the boy, to make this all special – to make it something he wouldn't ever forget.

He didn't know how long he had left with the boy, but he wanted to leave his mark on him – ingrain his face to Steven's memory, never to be replaced.

If only Steven would let him.

"You do know you can trust me, don't you Steven?" Brendan asked, voice measured and low, staring straight into Steven's eyes as he spoke because he needed him to feel his sincerity now more than ever.

"Yeah, I trust you Brendan," Steven replied, voice croaking with the nerves that were rushing round his body.

"Let me take care of you," Brendan pleaded.

Ste looked up into his eyes, and he saw it. Sure it was something more than pure lust. Sure it was something more than him being horny as fuck and ready and willing to take him. He was sure it was more than that reflecting back at him; but he wouldn't dare let himself believe it.

"You sure you don't mind?" Steven asked nervously, already acquiescing to the Irishman as he started to trail his fingers down his chest, stopping when he reached the waistband to his trousers, fingering open the button with his delicate fingers and reaching round and under the material to grab onto Brendan's cheeks.

"I don't mind at all, Steven," Brendan purred, "As long as you're ok with this?"

Ste nodded slowly as he stared up into Brendan's eyes, ready to commit his whole life to this man above him if he would let him. A wanton smile started to play out over his lips, and as he unhooked his legs and drew his hands away from Brendan, he zipped open his own shorts and lifted his hips to drag them off his bum, wriggling them down his trousers and kicking them off each ankle one by one, until they flung into one corner of the room and Ste let out a shy laugh.

"I'm ok with this," Ste whispered seductively, and Brendan couldn't withhold himself any more.

"Jesus, Steven, come here," he breathed out, barely audible as he launched himself back into Steven's warm, delectable mouth, devouring the boy once again and he was just as desperate, the both of them licking and kissing and sucking at each others mouths, necks, bodies; hands frantic and desperate with the need to explore and to touch and to worship each and every part of the body they were becoming so much more familiar with.

"You're insatiable, you know that, Steven?" Brendan whispered into his ear before sucking at his earlobe, the hot air shooting through Steven's ear and flooding him with hot pleasure that made his body come alive once again.

Ste didn't have the want or inclination to doubt what Brendan was saying – he was too caught up in this moment, too drunk on the passion between them to think of himself as anything less than the adonis than Brendan was worshipping with each and every inch of his own god-like body right now.

He needed more, needed to feel closer so he pushed down on Brendan's trousers, hooked his thumbs into his waistband and dragged them down over his hips, along with his boxers, letting them drop off Brendan's feet and hit the floor in abandonment. The only barrier between them now was Ste's underwear.

Brendan lay his body down on top of him, their skin on skin contact almost being enough to make Ste climax already. It was hot outside – too hot to be creating such extra friction but it was needed – more so than anything he had ever encountered before. The feel of Brendan's body against his own – so strong, so masculine, so domineering – it had him losing his breath in an instant.

He needed more – was so ready for this now it was almost painful to hold back any longer. He pushed his groin up against the Irishman, causing him to bring his lips away from his neck and look at Steven in the eye.

"I need you now, Brendan," Ste uttered as he locked eyes with the Irishman, and it elicited a groan of pure pleasure in response. His words were turning Brendan on, he could tell, and he liked the power it yielded over him.

"I need you to fuck me, Brendan," he added, rubbing himself up against him as if in confirmation.

"You've got a filthy mouth, Steven," Brendan added as if in warning, although it was obvious to both the men that he was drunk on the power the boy was affording him. Brendan brought two of his fingers up and pushed them against Steven's protruding bottom lip, the one that had teased Brendan so unashamedly for days now. Steven opened up and darted his tongue out, licking seductively on his fingers then closing his mouth around them and sucking intently, slicking them up in full knowledge of what Brendan had planned.

"Good boy," Brendan almost growled with satisfaction, longed to know what this suction would feel like against his own cock but he was sure he would know soon enough.

He pulled his hand away because he needed to get this started, trailing his fingers around until his hand was squeezing at the fleshy globes of his arse, teasing his cheeks open and rubbing his slickened fingers up against Steven's hole. The boy groaned seductively – not pushing him away this time – and Brendan massaged around the rim slowly, teasing at his entrance and waiting until he begged for it.

It didn't take long, and then Brendan was pushing the first finger inside, and _fucking hell _he was tight, felt fucking perfect as his muscles contracted around him and drew him further inside. He worked at his entrance slowly, pulsing in and out and before long he was pushing his other finger it, spreading his hole in preparation for his wide girth in a few minutes time. He pulled out and pushed in slowly, encouraged by each moan and groan and _fuck-yes_ and_ jesus-Brendan_ that slipped out of Steven's blasphemous mouth as he took him down; Brendan sure he could feel the boy pushing down against him, beginning to fuck himself on Brendan's fingers and surely not, surely he wasn't so used to this already that he was begging for more, pleading for more and if he could do that then he was ready for him, was ready to take him whole because fucks sake Brendan needed this now.

He pulled his fingers out and Steven almost yelped, moaning because he missed the stretch of Brendan's fingers inside him and he wasn't ready for it to end. He watched as Brendan stood up and located his trousers on the floor, pulling a condom and sachet of lube from his pocket and placing them down on the bed before climbing back on and kneeling between Ste's legs, sitting upright.

He was thankful Brendan had thought of protection – it hadn't even crossed his mind, and it would have almost killed him to have to stop in the middle of what they were doing because they hadn't thought ahead.

"Will it hurt?" Ste whispered as Brendan sat up and slipped the boys boxers down his legs, tossing them to the side of the room where the rest of their clothes lay in a heap.

As he opened the condom wrapper and rolled it over his throbbing cock, he cast his eyes over the naked form lay beneath him. He opened up the lube and smeared a generous dollop onto the latex, slicking himself up in preparation.

This just seemed like all his fantasies had come together at once. The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen lay beneath him, ready for him.

And he couldn't lie to him.

"Yes," Brendan answered him frankly, "Yes it will hurt, at first. But you'll get used to it. You'll learn to love it soon enough. You'll be begging for more I promise ye."

And all he needed was for Ste to smile up at him, to give him that heart shattering smile of approval, and he knew he was ready. Brendan leant down, placing his hands either side of Ste's head, bringing them closer together and more intimate than either of them had ever known. Brendan lined himself up, breached the first barrier as he gently pushed himself in.

He kissed Steven through it – swallowed his gasps of pain, tried to soothe them with his tongue inside his mouth; tried to be as gentle as he could be – as gentle as someone like him could manage – as he inched in further and further.

He almost didn't want to do it – almost couldn't bear to hurt Steven in this way – but one look into the boys eyes and he knew he wanted this; knew he wanted to be ready to take Brendan, wanted to be so used to his cock that he could feel nothing but pleasure from it; knew he could deal with this pain and take all the pleasure that would come after it, and the only way was to guide him through this right now.

"Just relax, Steven," Brendan whispered into his ear, kissing along his cheek and into that sensitive spot in his ear, and he felt him respond by lifting his hips up, asking for more, and as Brendan looked back at the boy with awe in his eyes, he saw the glint of pleasure dripping from Steven's pores and he knew he was ready, knew he could step it up a level; knew this was Steven telling him he could take it, he was ready for more.

He picked up his pace, started to thrust into his tight hole, body shivering with the intensity of it, with the tightness as it enveloped his throbbing cock. He increased it further, gathering speed as the minutes passed and he kissed at Steven's mouth, desperately sucking on his lip and groaning into his wet heat, pressure building inside him and he knew it was soon, knew he couldn't hold out much longer and he reached in between their sweat drenched bodies and settled his palm around Steven's length. He pulled on it vigorously, eliciting such a groan of pleasure from Steven he was almost concerned for him – jeez, this boy was loud. He was loud and filthy and he was fucking fearless, pushing up onto Brendan's cock, desperate for more despite the pain he must have felt, despite it all he wanted this and he was so close to the edge. Brendan pumped away at him vigorously, and he got him there, his volume stepping up yet another level as Brendan felt his body convulsing beneath him, his dick throbbing as the white hot heat flooded out of him, throbbing out over his own stomach and Brendan milked him through it, pounding away still and seconds later his body gave in to it, his own orgasm gripping him as he grunted into the boys neck and he was filling latex with his own orgasm as it tore out of him.

He collapsed into Steven's hold and they lay there in silence for a few moments, Ste tickling his finger tips up and down Brendan's sides as they both regained their breath, chests heaving against one another and it was so hot it was uncomfortable yet it would have killed either of them to have to pull apart from each other in that moment.

After a few minutes Brendan pulled himself back up onto his elbows, slowly pulling himself out of Steven and kneeling up to slick off the condom, tying it up and launching it into the bin in the corner of the room. He collapsed onto his back, side by side with Steven and they both stared up at the ceiling in awe.

"Fuck," Steven uttered eventually, first to break the silence.

"Yeah, fuck," Brendan replied moments later, and they both turned to face one another.

"Is it always that good?" Steven asked.

Brendan smiled back at him in return, but he didn't answer him. He was scared of what the answer to that question was if he asked himself truthfully.

Because no, it had never been that good before.

As he lifted his arm and pulled Steven closer to him to sleep in the crook of his arm, he fought back the nagging thought in the back of his mind which threatened to break him down and make him admit to what it was that made it so different this time. To what made Steven so different.

He wasn't ready to face up to the possibility of what it all meant, so he pushed it back, and suppressed the thought to the back of his mind, where it belonged and where he was determined it would forever stay.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews :D I feel as if there's not much plot in this update but I wanted to get something out to you so this is quite a high percentage of just porn for you ;)**_

_**I am off on holiday on Sunday but I'm hoping to get another update out to you before I go.**_

**_Enjoy :)_**

Day Ten Part 1

Ste woke to a wholly unfamiliar feeling coursing through his body. Shivers crept their way over his skin and he wasn't used to it – had been in this heat for so long that he had forgotten what this chill through his body felt like; but as his consciousness adjusted to his awakened state he realised it wasn't the temperature causing that reaction.

There was warmth there too; warmth plastered up his back and around his body, all the way from his shoulders down to his ankles, and an arm circling his waist. He felt the wet suction of tiny kisses against the back of his neck and realised they were the source of his shivers, as the Irishman woke him up in his own seductive way.

He whimpered a little, his body adjusting to the unfamiliar state of affairs. He rolled his shoulders back and Brendan's kisses deepened against his skin, teeth and tongue joining lips where they tasted Ste's neck and shoulder, Brendan letting out his inner vamp in this early morning haze. Ste smiled to himself, pushing his whole body back up against the Irishman's warmth, and he thought to himself that this must be the best possible way to be woken up – wrapped in the arms of the one you love.

Wait.

He didn't mean that.

He startled slightly at his thoughts but tried to mask it into a stretch so as not to raise Brendan's suspicions.

"Morning," Brendan whispered into his ear from behind.

"Morning," Ste replied, trying to sound as cool as possible, as if the thought that he was in love with this man hadn't just washed over him.

_Fuck sake, _Ste chastised himself. He was always doing this – throwing emotion into things which had no cause for it. He couldn't help being so sensitive, but he wished he could separate things out in his head sometimes, divide the emotional from the physical. Brendan was obviously only after one thing – why would he want anything more from him – but once again Ste had gone and got himself too far involved.

He knew what this was really. It was a holiday fling. It was a holiday fling. He repeated it to himself like a mantra. He couldn't seriously _love _this guy after only a week together and a few seedy hookups when his wife wasn't watching – he couldn't be that ridiculous. Could he?

_Pull yourself together, _Ste told himself as he rolled onto his back to face this Irishman.

As soon as he locked eyes with him, his resolve had already weakened.

"Hey, you ok?" Brendan asked him sleepily, full of concern.

The unease must have spread to his face; must be pouring out of him and Ste was in no doubt that Brendan could see it now. Ste raised his eyebrows and a smile alongside them, and tried to glaze over his hidden romantic thoughts.

"Don't like mornings," Ste replied convincingly, leaning around and placing a kiss on Brendan's shoulder. "Although this might be one of my favourites," he added.

Brendan smiled down at him, leaning in for kiss on his lips but Ste pulled away, covering his mouth in embarrassment.

"Don't, I've got morning breath," he warned playfully.

"Ye think I care," Brendan teased as he shifted in the bed, grabbing hold of Steven's wrists and pulling them away from his mouth, before leaning in and claiming a sweet, languid taste of the boy's mouth. Ste tried to resist beneath him, but he couldn't not give in, found himself keening into the Irishman, begging for more.

Brendan kissed him back with such intensity Ste almost let himself believe it were true – that they were sharing more than just the physical here. It would be too good to be true though, wouldn't it? Ste had never felt love – not true love – and he had let himself believe that it was an impossible feat. That nobody could ever truly love him.

Much less someone with a wife, a reputation as a drug lord and a massive case of denial about his sexual orientation.

Ste thought about bringing up Brendan's 'I'm not gay' bombshell but decided against it. He would do anything to keep himself from ruining the mood that Brendan was in right now.

Ste licked back into the Irishman's mouth, wanting to taste him and to _know _him like he had never known anyone else. He groaned into his mouth and Brendan pulled away, reluctantly if the look on his face meant anything.

"So," Brendan asked as he leant over him, expression dark yet playful, "How was it then?"

Ste blushed involuntarily as he dissolved into his own smile; Brendan noticing and breathing out a laugh of appreciation.

"That good, hey?" Brendan added arrogantly.

"Well, I've got nothing to compare it to, have I?" Ste teased playfully.

Brendan smirked, the thought making his cock twitch beneath the covers, already semi hard with the customary morning glory.

"Is that a come-on, Steven?" Brendan smirked back, pushing himself closer to the boys naked body beside him. "You want something to compare it to right now?"

Ste laughed beneath him, shifting himself into the space beneath Brendan's body. He could feel Brendan's hardened cock pushing against his hipbone, and he ground against it, pulling a glorious moan from the older man's throat.

"What do you think?" Steven replied, eyes locked onto Brendan's now, saw how his pupils were blown wide with lust – lust for Steven – and he had to pinch himself to let himself believe that it was him eliciting such a reaction from the Irishman.

"I think you're ready for more," Brendan purred before he took the boys arms and raised them above his head, holding them down gently against the pillow and leaning in to devour the boy ever further. He let go of Ste's wrists as he carried on kissing him, trailing his hands gently down his sides, over the sensitive area by his ribs and Steven giggled into his mouth, went to move his hands from above his head and hold Brendan's face but he stopped him, his hand back above the boy's head in an instant, pushing his skinny wrists into the pillow once more.

"Stay," Brendan warned in between kisses, "Or I'll be forced to find something to tie you up with."

Ste replied with a groan of satisfaction, deepening their kiss further in agreement.

Brendan ran his fingers back along the boy's smooth chest again – his skin so delectable he wasn't sure he had ever wanted to devour anything more, not a hair on his chest and that was just how Brendan liked it – nothing until his irresistible treasure trail which his hands were moving ever closer to.

He pulled his hips up to allow his hand to move in between their bodies, continuing the deep and sloppy kiss because he didn't care about finesse right now – this was about carnal passion not romanticism, after all. He wasn't about to be all tender and loving with the boy just because he _thought _he had felt something unfamiliar last night, when they had made - no, when they had _fucked_.

Steven whimpered then moaned loudly, throwing his head back in pleasure as Brendan gripped on his rock hard dick, stripping him raw straight away – no teasing, no hanging around – he needed to pull this orgasm out of Steven's body before he could even think about starting the day.

He worked his length quickly, totally unforgiving in his assault on his lovers body because he knew the boy could take it – he knew Steven liked it like this now - rougher than most. The harder he worked him, the louder his groans pitched; with each thrust forward he could feel his own hardened cock between them, touching the tip of Steven's cock occasionally and when it did the thrill rushed through him. They were both leaking pre come and Brendan tore his eyes away from Steven's for one second, looked into the chasm between their bodies and _fuck _it was hot, seeing Steven's excitement building, seeing his own cock graze against Steven, seeing the bead of his own arousal on Steven's cock when they touched.

He looked back up to the boy just as his groans reached their loudest, Steven orgasm so close and _jesus _he looked so hot when he was just on the edge like this – skin slicked with sweat, eyes glazed and pupils blown wide with lust, mouth open and inviting, chest heaving with exertion at their unbridled passion. Brendan grunted in appreciation of his beauty, savouring his twisted expression as he felt the white hot liquid on his hand, against his own chest as it pulsed upwards, dick throbbing in his hands.

He loved how loud Steven was – had never been with anyone so vocal before, all too aware that if he were to ever be like this with a man again he would always think of Steven and how much he _loved _to hear him. The thought washed over him in that moment, the faint idea that he could get used to hearing him – might never tire of hearing this boy reach orgasm – but he pushed that down to the recesses of his own mind before he could let himself wallow in it or get too carried away.

He sat up, moved his legs so he was straddling Steven's hips, sat back on his skinny thighs and smiled down at him. Steven smiled back, and he was so beautiful.

Brendan had the urge to try something, to push the boy and see how far he would go. He wanted to watch him taste how delicious he was.

"Eurgh, what you doing?" Ste grimaced as he looked at his own come running slowly over Brendan's hand, now drawing ever closer to his own face.

"Taste yourself, Steven," Brendan pleaded. "You're feckin exquisite." He was purring, seductive and Ste was almost convinced, almost about to do as this adonis before him suggested, but he pulled himself away, unable to break down his defences that far. .

"Nah, that's rank that," Ste replied, pushing Brendan's hand back towards his face. "If you think it's that good I'll let you finish, yeah."

Brendan laughed as he did as Steven told, smirking as he licked his fingers clean.

"You've got a lot to learn yet, lad," Brendan smirked.

"Don't know if I wanna learn if that's on your lesson plan," Ste replied, unable to hide the smirk from forming over his lips as he looked up at Brendan and saw the self satisfaction dripping from him.

"Who you kidding, Steven?" Brendan replied teasingly, "I ain't even started on ye yet."

And with that he dove back in, weight on his knees as they moved back between Steven's thighs, hands pinning the boy down by his wrists, lips trailing kisses down from his pouty lips, down and under the curve of his jaw, then along his perfectly smooth chest. Ste giggled and squirmed beneath him, pretending to pull away so as to let Brendan pin him back down, handing him the power to play with his new toy as he pleased.

Brendan worked his kisses down, reached his nipple and bit down on it gently, tongue flicking against it and causing Ste to keen his body up towards him, Brendan feeling his nipple harden at the contact but he swiftly moved on – there was somewhere he was more interested in exploring on the boy.

His kisses worked their way down, over the smooth tautness of his stomach, his nose and cheeks brushing against the softness of his youthful skin, so perfectly warm and supple that Brendan had to resist the urge to dig his teeth in, to feel the resistance of his delectable skin against his tongue.

Ste whimpered with every touch, with every kiss, with every movement against his body; pressing his body up into Brendan's touch, bringing his hands down to his sides and findings Brendan's there, and he held onto them on instinct, interlocking their fingers slightly in a lazy connection. He wouldn't dare try it another time. He wouldn't dare try it even in the hazy aftermath. But the rules were different in the thick of it; it could happen now. Brendan would let it happen now.

Brendan groaned against his skin, dizzy with the heady excitement he felt. He stroked his thumb against the inside of Steven's palm, his lips making their way further down, nearing Steven's cock, nuzzling into his hair but kissing past the base of his already semi-hardening length, skirting around it and kissing down the inside of his thighs.

Ste hitched a breath as he felt Brendan's kisses littering his sensitive skin, the feeling of pure intimacy racing through his veins, whimpering as Brendan licked at his skin, at the spot where his birthmark lay – the birthmark only Ste and a couple of others, Brendan now included, knew existed.

Brendan sucked against the boys skin, rougher than the rest of him with the course hairs that he wore down there, but more tender than Brendan had ever felt. He could sense Steven's sensitivity, how he rolled his hips at every touch, how his body sent shivers up and down his legs with every meeting of Brendan' wet lips against his skin.

And Brendan knew exactly where he wanted to be.

He pulled his hands away from Steven's hold reluctantly, drawing them down along his skin, past his hips, along his outer thighs and hooked them under his knees. He pulled Steven's legs up and forwards to fold the boy over on himself, exposing his tight pink hole in all its glory.

He trailed kisses down from Steven's inner thigh, closing in on where he wanted to be, but felt Steven tense beneath him. He doubted Ste had ever been rimmed before, and it set him alight to think of all the new things he could experience with the boy. He kissed further down until his face was nestled into the space between Steven's legs, about to slick his tongue up and over his exposed hole when Steven pulled himself up the bed and away from Brendan's tongue.

"Eyar, what ya doing?" Ste snapped at him, confusion and disgust etched over his face.

"Ye never been rimmed before, Steven?" Brendan replied seductively, noticing how his voice made Steven's features soften slightly, how a smile threatened to play over his face.

"What's that?" Ste asked innocently.

"Want me to show you?" Brendan asked, stilling in his movements.

"I don't know," Ste replied quietly, looking away from Brendan's heated glare.

Brendan sat up on his knees between Steven's legs then, stopping himself when he saw the unease in Steven's face. He wasn't that person – never would be – and he edged further away from the boy as his reluctance shone through.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to, Steven," Brendan told him, tone serious and short. "You would say no if you didn't want any of this, wouldn't you?"

Ste smiled then, saw how Brendan had become tense all of a sudden, petrified of forcing Ste into doing something he wasn't sure about. He grabbed onto Brendan's forearms, pulling the Irishman down until he fell over him, slap of his naked skin against Steven's when he dropped between his legs. Ste reached up and kissed him, rough and desperate against Brendan's bruising lips.

"Course I would," Ste confirmed as he pulled out of the kiss and stared into Brendan's eyes. "I want to do it, I want to try all of it. With you. I'm just new to all of this, that's all."

Brendan grunted in response as Ste caught his mouth in another chaste kiss.

"I promise, Bren. I want this," Ste repeated as he saw the concern in Brendan's eyes.

"I wouldn't force ye -"

"I wouldn't let ya," Ste interrupted before Brendan could let his thoughts carry themselves down a darker path. "I wouldn't let ya," he repeated for clarity.

Brendan looked down into the boys eyes, and saw it then. Saw the eagerness, the awareness, the power, the strength. Saw that he wanted it – the lust seeping out of every pore – and that he was ready and willing.

And that was enough for him.

He leant back in, peppering kisses along the boys cheek and neck, making a path back up to his pouty lips which he consumed with his own, groaning as he heard Steven whimper into his mouth, feeling his hips grinding up and fuck, he was almost hard again, he could feel it against his thigh.

He ground back into the boy, friction hardening his own erection as it thrust into the valley of Steven's hipbone, the head catching agonisingly close to Steven's cock with each push forwards.

After a few minutes Brendan felt the boy still in his movements beneath him, and pulled away to look into his eyes. He was greeted with a look so wanton his breath hitched in his throat in anticipation.

"Do it," Steven begged, before reaching up for another bruising kiss.

"Do what?" Brendan asked back, trailing his tongue along Steven's neck and up to his ear lobe.

"What you were gonna do before," Ste confirmed.

Brendan nibbled down on the fleshy skin of his lobe, breathing hot air into Steven's ear and revelling in the shivers he felt course along the boy's smooth skin.

"Yeah?" Brendan breathed out, partly to make sure he had heard him right, partly to make sure Steven really was consenting.

"Just do it," Steven begged, and Brendan could hear it then – the desperation in his tone as his body keened up into the Irishman.

Brendan took one last bite of his lobe and sat himself up, grabbing Steven by the waist in one movement and rolling him over in the bed to lie on his front, then pulling his hips up to encourage the boy to bend his knees beneath him, which he did so instinctively, exposing his hole once again to Brendan.

Only this time, he was ready.

"You trust me, yeah?" Brendan asked for confirmation.

"I trust you," Ste replied, muffled by the pillow as he thrust his face into them.

Brendan groaned then leant in, placing gentle kisses along the small of his back and massaging his arse, spreading the cheeks slightly to clear a pathway for his tongue. He swiped it down the ridge of his cheeks, teasing the tip along his skin until he reached his hole, flicked it against the rim and he swore he nearly came himself at the sound it elicited from Steven's mouth.

"Fuck!" he cried out desperately.

Brendan smirked and flicked his tongue again, pulsing the muscle of his tongue against the muscles of Ste's hole.

"Fuck," Ste whispered again, laughing incredulously at the intensity of what he was feeling. It should have felt so wrong, like everything he had ever been told you should and shouldn't enjoy was shot now, like he felt guilty for enjoying the feel of the Irishman's tongue as it worked it's way teasingly in and around the tight muscles of his hole, working him open. Whatever kind of person it made him, he couldn't ever feel wrong for enjoying it right now. It was all kinds of _right _as far as he was concerned.

He writhed against the feeling, expletives tumbling from his sordid mouth as he revelled in it, devoured the feeling of Brendan worshipping him, and he felt Brendan's hand pull away from his arse, drawing round and grabbing hold of his rock solid cock, working along his length and he knew he was drawing close, knew his body was about to bring him to release as he bucked his hips back, begging for more, begging for Brendan to fuck him with his tongue.

But the effect on the Irishman was the opposite of what he wanted – he pulled his tongue away and when Ste looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with him he saw the knowing smile behind his eyes; knew he was doing it to torture him; knew he wanted to hear Steven beg, but he would do it shamelessly, would do anything Brendan asked right now to get him back where he wanted him.

"Don't stop," Ste begged wantonly. "Please, Brendan."

"You like it now then?" Brendan asked him, teasing tone to his voice, low and rough.

"Yes," Ste replied, pupils blown fully with lust and Brendan was still working his cock up and down, stroking at it slowly and teasingly.

"Please, Bren, please," Ste continued to beg, and the urgency to his tone was all Brendan needed He swept straight back in, kissing his way towards his hole, licking and sucking and Steven was responding to every slight movement with his irresistible whimpers and groans.

It set Brendan's pulse on fire, and he needed the boy – he could feel himself closing in, knew this was how he got his own pleasure and he knew he was close now as well. He needed to bury himself inside the boy and as he pulled his tongue away, fully intent on burying himself deep within him, he stopped and cursed under his breath.

"Please, don't stop," Steven begged, "I'm so close."

"I wanna fuck you," Brendan explained hurriedly, eyes searching around the room but he knew he had nothing – no condoms, no lube – and there was no way he could make the boy take his nine inches for only the second time without something to slicken him up.

"I don't care, just do it," Steven begged, flipping himself over so he lay on his back, looking pleadingly into Brendan's eyes and his hands made their way to his own dick and he started stripping away at it desperately.

"No way, Steven, it'll hurt too much," Brendan groaned, and he wasn't sure he had ever felt frustration like it. He needed this more than he had ever needed anything before, but he was going to have to wait.

He batted Steven's hand away and took over, kneeling between his legs as he stripped his cock raw, sticking two fingers of his free hand into Steven's mouth. He slickened them over quickly with saliva, and Brendan hurriedly moved them down, pushing one finger inside Steven's tight hole, and after a few seconds he pushed in the second. He fucked him with his fingers – started pulsing in and out, working the rhythm with his other hand as it moved up and down his cock – but it was seconds, literally just seconds, until the white hot heat poured out of the boy again.

Steven stilled beneath him, muscles loose and relaxed in his post-orgasmic haze, but Brendan wasn't done. He locked eyes with the boy as he milked his own dick dry, tugging on it desperately, Steven below him watching the contortions of his face as he pleasured himself.

It was sex; but it felt like so much more than sex. It felt like intimacy; when he did this to himself whilst locking eyes with the boy below him. And in those few moments, as they shared that connection - it didn't scare him. If anything, it tugged at his cold heart and increased the intensity of his orgasm as it rose up through his body, and he was crying out Steven's name as he released himself over Steven's chest.

He dropped down onto his front, chest against chest, breathing heavily; the hot sticky mess of both of their orgasms plastered against both of their bodies, mixing together, coming as one.

He felt Steven peppering small, gentle kisses against his neck, whispering words of thanks and awe, and it was in that pleasure-ridden haze that he felt himself rolling off the boy and drifting off to sleep.

-s-

It was almost 11am when Ste rolled over and checked the time on his phone. He had slept for almost two hours since Brendan had wished him good morning in his own special way, and he rolled over to nestle himself in the Irishman's arms.

Except he found the bed empty.

He sat up, blinking his eyes open and straining his ears to listen out for the sound of the tell tale signs of life from behind the bedroom door, the sound of the older man in the living room. But he could hear nothing.

He'd gone.

He dropped his head back into his pillow with force, groaning to himself and covering his face with his hands.

He was scared that this would happen, and his instinct was to assume the worst. And why would his instincts be wrong? He knew who Brendan was – knew the life that he lead – so of course he would leave him once he'd gotten what he wanted.

Ste cursed to himself. He'd been so _fucking _stupid.

He'd given himself over to Brendan, let him have that piece of him that nobody else could ever take now, and he'd given it over so willingly. He'd been so naïve, so happy to push the doubts to the back of his mind, so willing to believe that Brendan was a better person than he was, and now he was left here, all alone. Used.

He curled his hands into fists and smacked them down against the duvet. He'd let himself get drawn in by Brendan's smooth talk, by the thought of having chipped away at his cool exterior, by the ridiculous notion that someone so powerful and distinguished could care for him. He'd been drawn in, let the man take exactly what he wanted, and he'd given it up so easily.

And now he was left here by himself. Dropped like a hot potato now that Brendan had got what he wanted; what he'd been after all along.

He cursed under his breath. How could he have been so _fucking _pathetic.

This was what _men_ did after all, wasn't it? Was this how it was going to be to live as a gay man? Constantly working out which men were there for the long haul and which were just sweet talking to get what they wanted. He hadn't had to deal with that when he was trying to convince himself he was straight – if anyone was doing the using then, it was him.

He had the sudden, fleeting urge to ring Amy. He realised she may have been one of the only people to understand how he felt. She had been used before; past boyfriends (plural) taking what they wanted and leaving when they realised they couldn't handle her baggage. Maybe she could relate.

But he stopped himself. He didn't fancy having to prelude that conversation with the one that explained why he was sleeping with a man in the first place. That conversation would have to be done face to face, and seeing as she was refusing to bring the kids over for their scheduled visit in a couple of weeks time, he conceded it would be a while until Amy learnt about that part of his life.

He wondered when their relationship had gotten so strained. They had been best friends at one point – had helped each other through some difficult times; through various parent issues on both sides – and they had always been able to rely on one another. Not any more, though.

Ste knew exactly when it had all changed. But that was irrelevant now – he couldn't go back and change the past.

And he couldn't change last night either. Or this morning.

Would he change it if he could?

He groaned and pulled himself up out of bed, looking at himself in the mirror and shaking his head at his own reflection. He hadn't seen his hair this messy in a long while, but it kind of suited him, and his skin seemed to be glowing. In a word, he looked positively fucked. In a good way.

It had been good. Painful, at first; but Brendan had been gentle with him, as promised. He had been so concerned for Ste's welfare; so intent on making sure he was ok with everything, and Ste couldn't help but think about how it didn't make sense that he would fuck and run like he so obviously had done. It was as if last night he had seen behind the exterior, seen the fragility of the Irishman, and it didn't match up with the way he had left him high and dry this morning. It's not like Brendan could have had anywhere to be other than here with him, so why else would he run?

Ste sighed as he bent down to pick up some boxer shorts and throw them on before leaving his room, wincing slightly as he walked towards his bedroom door, feeling a little sore after the night before. Despite it all, he didn't regret it. Couldn't regret it. Even if he was going to have to face that it was a one-time-only thing, it was more than he suspected most people would experience in a lifetime.

He pulled his bedroom door open and stood shock still as he glanced out to the living room.

"Morning, Steven," Brendan drawled sexily, tilting his head in confusion at the look of shock on Ste's face. "What's up? Was I that good that you've forgotten I was here already?"

He stood up and strolled towards Ste, putting down the photo album he had been sat looking through in silence.

"Course not," Ste smiled after shaking the shock away. "I just thought...I didn't know you were still 'ere," he added quietly.

Brendan stopped infront of Ste, almost offended that the lad would think so little of him.

"You thought I'd gone?" Brendan asked, "After last night, you thought I could leave ye?"

Ste smirked as his eyes danced over Brendan's playful expression.

"Dunno," Ste whispered to the ground, feeling ridiculous all of a sudden.

Brendan laughed at him; a quiet, unsure, laugh that he hoped didn't betray the pain he had felt that Steven would think he could do that across him – that he still thought of him as _that _kind of person.

"Well, I wouldn't," Brendan confirmed as he turned away from Ste, returning to his spot on the sofa and picking up the coffee he had made for himself.

A few seconds later Ste joined him, picking up the photo album and flicking through a few of the pages. There were so many memories in there – times he had completely forgotten about, when the world seemed a brighter place; and others from when it had seemed so much darker too.

"You been stalking my past then?" Ste joked as he glanced up at Brendan, relieved to see a wary smile on his face.

"Maybe," he replied, "I can't sleep in 'til mid-afternoon like you, ye lazy shit, so had to occupy my time somehow."

"Oi, it's only 11am," Ste defended himself.

They sat in amiable silence as Ste continued to flick through the pages, smiling at all the photos of people from his past; pictures of his school friends, of Amy and the kids, of people from around the village. He pointed at certain pictures and explained the story behind them to Brendan, explaining who was who and what they were doing.

"That yer da'?" Brendan asked, pointing to a picture of Ste and an older looking guy in his forties, arms around each other, both in their chef's whites.

"Who, him?" Ste asked, pointing at the picture. "Nah, that's Tony, me old boss at the restaurant. He gave me the job when everyone thought I was this good-for-nothin' scally," Ste laughed as he reminisced. "I owe him a lot. He was a proper decent guy. Was the closest thing I had to a dad really."

"Was?" Brendan asked reverently.

"Yeah, he died about a year ago," Ste answered quietly, memories playing through his mind as he swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Cancer," Ste explained.

"I'm sorry," Brendan offered, and Ste could sense the genuine regret in his tone.

"Thanks," he answered quietly, taking one last longing look at the picture before turning the page, needing to move on before the tears that threatened to fall made an appearance.

A few quiet moments passed between them as they flicked through the photo album, before Ste sighed and broached the subject they had both been avoiding.

"I better go get ready," Ste let out soberly, "It's almost 12.00."

Brendan sighed too as he realised what Ste was about to do.

"Yeah, I'd rather you didn't go meet him half naked," Brendan joked, trying to lighten the mood, but Ste could see the pain behind his eyes " It's bad enough you handing _my_ body over to him, don't go handing him _yours_ as well."

Brendan laughed but he could see the dread fall over Steven's face.

"Bren, don't," Ste warned. "That's not funny. I don't wanna do this."

Something jolted inside of Brendan's chest on hearing his words. He wouldn't let himself believe that it meant the boy cared. How could anybody care for him, after all? He was Brendan Brady. He was unloveable.

"I know, I'm sorry," Brendan replied, voice calm and low, reflective. He could tell Ste was anxious about it all and he felt the need to pacify him, make him feel at ease. " Look, all you've gotta do is meet him, tell him I'm staying at the hotel, find out what he wants you to do with me and then come back and let me know."

He made it sound so simple.

Ste knew that wasn't all, though. He was grassing on Brendan to his fiercest enemy; a man he had stolen from; a dangerous man who sought revenge. It felt like he was feeding Brendan to the lions, and it went against everything his instincts were telling him.

"And then what, though?" Ste asked nervously.

He wanted Brendan to acknowledge that this was more than he was making it out to be; he wanted to make sure Brendan knew that Ste definitely wasn't ok with this. He didn't want Brendan to ever think that this was going to be easy for him.

"And then we can spend the night planning Danny's downfall," Brendan replied, avoiding the crux of Steven's concerns. "Whilst we're fucking, of course," he added with a smirk on his face.

Despite his anxious state, Ste couldn't help but laugh.

"You're such a romantic, Brendan Brady," Ste sassed back at him as he stood up, hand on his hip and lips pouting as he glared back at the Irishman. "Honestly, though," Ste continued, "This doesn't feel right - "

"Ye gotta do it, kid," Brendan interrupted, standing to face Steven. "Don't ye see the advantage it gives us over him? If we know what he's planning, we're one step ahead of him and he won't even know it. You can see that, surely?"

"Yeah, I guess," Ste conceded. "It just doesn't feel right to go against you like this."

Brendan reached forward and enveloped the boy in his arms. He wasn't usually one to show this kind of comfort, but something about the vulnerability pouring from Steven's expression meant he just couldn't resist him, couldn't leave him standing there so unsure. He couldn't fault Steven's loyalty; the doubt he exuded building Brendan's trust in him. He squeezed the boy's lean body tightly against his own, and he couldn't ignore the way his body slotted into him so easily, as if the curve of his body had been carved with Steven in mind.

"You're not going against me," he reassured him soothingly, "You're doing what I've asked."

"I suppose," Ste sighed as he released himself from Brendan's grip, leaning back as he kept his hold on Brendan's waist and looked up into his eyes.

"What you doing after you've met up with young Daniel?" Brendan asked calmly after a moment.

"I've gotta work this afternoon," Ste replied, "I can see you tonight again though?"

"Yeah?" Brendan asked with a glint in his eyes. After this morning he would be sure to stock up on supplies whilst they were apart.

"Yeah," Ste confirmed, smirking back at him knowingly.

"Fancy going out somewhere?" Brendan asked, and even he had no idea where it had come from. It wasn't like him to be so accommodating with the men he fucked.

He watched as Steven looked back at him, equally as surprised. He had obviously caught on to how Brendan worked, and knew this was out of character.

"Like where?" Ste asked, intrigued.

In for a penny, in for a pound Brendan thought to himself.

"Into the resort?" he asked gingerly, feeling a wave of nerves flush through him for no explicable reason. He felt like he was having an out of body experience, that there must be something really wrong with him if he was seriously having this conversation.

But the minute he allowed himself to take in Steven's expression, to appreciate the beaming smile that threatened to take over the boy's face, he didn't feel so anxious all of a sudden.

"You sure?" Ste asked, still smiling until his brow creased slightly with his next thought, "Is that safe? I mean, Danny could see us."

Brendan considered him, but he had the thought in his mind now and he wasn't about to give up on the night he had just let himself get a little bit excited for. As excited as Brendan Brady ever got outside of the bedroom, anyway.

"We could leave separately," Brendan suggested, "Meet in the restaurant, then leave separately. It'll be safe enough, as long as we're careful. And Danny will back off once he's spoken to you anyway, once he thinks he's got you on the inside."

"Yeah, I suppose," Ste smiled as he leant up to place another kiss on Brendan's lips, pressing in harder than usual. He hoped the older man was right, because he wanted this more than ever.

"Ok?" Brendan asked, sensing his unease.

"Ok," Ste confirmed, the smile on his face spreading all the way up to his blue eyes.

"I'll come see you at work this afternoon," Brendan told him as he started to slink out of his grasp, heading towards the bathroom to get ready for his meet up with Danny. "And keep your phone on ye."

"Ok," Ste called back as he sauntered off, turning and shooting Brendan a wink as he dropped his boxers before rounding the door into the bathroom.

"You'll be the death of me, boy," Brendan muttered under his breath as he resisted the urge to take up Steven's blatant invitation.

Danny Houston had always been a stickler for timing. There was no way he could make Steven late for their meeting, however much his animalistic instincts told him not to worry about it.

Because the problem was, he did. For the first time in a long time, he was worried about it.

-s-

Ste approached the small cafe reluctantly, knowing Danny Houston was inside and wanting nothing more than to be back where he was half an hour ago, in the safety of Brendan's presence. He checked his watch – 12.01pm.

He took a deep breath as he pushed open the cafe door. He had always been a terrible liar. People had always been able to tell when he was lying – his mom, his step-dad, his ex-girlfriends. Teachers, friends, _him. _They had always been able to see through him.

He was convinced Danny would be no different.

"Steven," Danny greeted him as Ste approached his table.

"It's Ste," he corrected him gruffly.

"Ok, Ste, take a seat," he offered.

Ste kicked the leg out from the chair opposite Danny and slumped down on it, trying to come across as relaxed as possible. He hoped his twitching leg didn't betray the pain it was causing him to go through with this.

He'd never been a grass after all.

"So, what news have you got for me, Ste?" Danny asked him, casting his eyes all over Steven's features, analysing every tick and every movement.

Ste's eyes darted around the room, left to right, avoiding Danny's glare which threatened to unnerve him should he get caught up in it.

"I tell you this and you'll leave me alone, yeah? Leave Amy and the kids and me alone?" Ste pleaded, sweat prickling at the back of his neck as Danny continued to inspect him closely.

"That was the deal," Danny confirmed.

"Ok," Ste conceded, taking a deep breath before he continued. He needed to appear as if he was reluctant to be a grass, but not too reluctant so that Danny might suspect something. "The bloke you're after, he's staying at the hotel. He's been here a couple of weeks."

Danny nodded his head slowly, a smile playing over his lips.

There was an awkward silence between the two of them, Ste sensing Danny was sizing him up, and he felt the need to fill the gap in conversation. He knew he needed to go back to Brendan with more information - the whole point of Ste telling Danny about Brendan was so they could have one up on him, and Ste realised he needed information out of Danny if that plan was ever going to work.

"So, what's your next move?" Ste asked, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. He hoped the nervous flicker of his eyes towards Danny's face didn't give him away.

"What's it to you, kid?" Danny asked as he sat up and took a closer look at the sweat forming on Ste's brow. "Why do you care what I plan to do next?"

"No, nothing, don't care do I?" Ste backtracked, voice cracking slightly under the pressure of doing the right thing. "Just curious, int I?"

"Yeah?" Danny asked rhetorically, "Well you should keep your nose out, Ste," he warned menacingly.

"You gonna go after him?" Ste pushed further, desperate for at least something to give back to Brendan.

"He ain't gonna know what's hit him," Danny smirked back.

Ste's blood ran cold at the tone to Danny's voice. He was serious – he meant business – and Ste knew he had potentially just put Brendan in a whole heap of trouble. He needed to get something – anything – that would put Brendan in a better position that Danny when the two came head to head.

With that thought in the forefront of his mind, and the niggling fear that he could lose Brendan because of this, Ste realised he needed to push for more.

"Maybe I could help you," he suggested weakly.

Danny looked at him like something he'd trodden in.

"You?" he asked with an amused smirk on his face.

"Yeah," Ste defended himself, "Look, I'm his holiday rep ain't I? I could be your inside man. Get him to meet you somewhere or something. I could be useful, Danny."

Ste knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but if Brendan was ever going to get the advantage over Danny Ste needed to make Danny think he was working for him. He needed to gain Danny's trust, so that Danny would walk right into Brendan's hands.

Danny eyed him suspiciously. The lad did have a point, and he knew it. He could be an asset. But there was just something that didn't sit quite right with him, for some reason. Something about the way he was acting, about how desperate he seemed for information; to be involved.

"Why do you wanna help me, anyway?" Danny asked, narrowing his eyes with the question, "I thought you were out of this game?"

Ste shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn't anticipated that question.

"Dunno, I could just do with some money I guess, hoped you might pay me for it" he answered vaguely, "And I owe you for what you did, don't I?"

Ste sat and waited for Danny's reply. He hoped he wouldn't question his true motives – there was only so much of this scrutiny he could withstand.

Danny watched him for an agonising few minutes, Ste trying to look him dead in the eye and hold the eye contact for the whole time, desperate to hide his true intentions from the Londoner.

After what seemed like forever Danny started nodding back at him slowly.

"Yeah, ok," he drawled out, Ste physically breathing out a sigh of relief, "It's going down tomorrow," Danny explained.

"Tomorrow?" Ste questioned, surprised at how little time they would have to prepare.

"Yeah, tomorrow. If I tell you where and when, you reckon you can get him there?"

"Yeah, course," Ste smiled back, before sobering his expression straight away. He always gave too much away with his reactions.

"You that confident?" Danny asked suspiciously.

"Well, just eager, like," he lied, "And people tend to trust me, Danny, so I reckon I can get him there, that's all."

He hoped he hadn't given away too much.

"Yeah, I bet a lad like you could get Brendan to do all sorts," Danny muttered under his breath.

"Y'what?" Ste asked, even though he was sure he'd heard every word. Did Danny know about Brendan? How?

"Nothing, lad," Danny smiled, the kind that didn't reach his eyes, and passed his phone over to Ste. "Put your number in, I'll text you the details."

Ste complied, passing the phone back when he was finished.

"You can piss off now," Danny instructed as he started looking through his phone, not bothering to look at Ste as he sighed heavily and stood up to leave.

"See ya then," Ste pouted back at him, greeted with nothing but silence as he walked away.

"Interesting," Danny muttered to himself when Ste had left, picking up on the way Ste had been acting during their meeting. "Very interesting."


	13. Chapter 13

_**So so many apologies for the massive delay in updating, I tried to update before going on holiday but what I managed to write was rubbish so I didn't post it. This is slightly more acceptable so I hope it suffices :)**_

**_If you need a re-cap (because it's been aaaaaages!) basically Eileen is still away on her cruise, the boys have been getting down and dirrty, and Ste had just met up with Danny to tell him where Brendan is (at Brendan's request), and persuaded Danny to let him help him out with bringing Brendan down. Think that's about it._**

**_As always, thank you for your too-kind reviews, and for everyone who's following (Hi to any new followers!) and just everybody who bothers to read my terrible ramblings! I Love each and every one of you, possibly as much as Brendan loves his Steven ;P_**

_**Enjoy ;)**_

_Day Ten Part 2_

Brendan realised he had been pacing; up and down in a constant fit of anxiety along the bottom of the bed in his hotel room. He forced himself to sit down, picking up the TV remote from the bed and pointing it aggressively at the screen, sneering with each banal image that flashed before him; he knew he wouldn't find what he was looking for on the screen so he switched it off just as angrily and hurled the remote towards the wall.

He checked his watch – Steven had met with Danny almost 30 minutes ago. He had no idea if they would be finished yet; no idea what they were talking about; no idea if Steven had convinced him enough to keep himself out of danger. He had to fight every instinct within him to resist storming down to that cafe and dragging Steven away from the monster he was meeting with. He didn't really want Steven anywhere near this – would have kept him hidden from view if he had been one step ahead of his enemy – but Danny had taken him by surprise and Steven had been caught up in the crossfire before Brendan could do anything to protect him.

He prayed he wouldn't end up as collateral damage.

He shook his head. Why did he even care that much anyway?

Besides his urge to protect the boy, it was killing him not knowing what they were talking about. He wanted nothing more than to be able to see Danny's face, to be able to analyse for himself whether he believed Steven or not. He didn't know if the boy knew enough about the world he lived in to be able to fool a guy like Danny – in one sense he really hoped he didn't – but to protect the pair of them now Steven had to pull something off.

It was killing him to keep himself locked away up in his room whilst it was all going on. He couldn't risk waiting around outside the cafe and watching – it would have been game over right there and then if he'd been caught, and they would have known about Steven then too. He refused to put that boy in any more danger. He couldn't wait back in the lobby for Steven either, though, in case Danny followed him back, or walked with him even. He couldn't even ring the boy, or text him, in case Danny saw and it raised his suspicions, or unnerved Steven from doing what he had to do.

Anything that could link Steven to Brendan and Brendan to Steven had to be avoided at all costs until he knew that Danny had taken the bait.

He could feel the rage rising within him with every second that passed. He hadn't felt this rage in while – not since being away from everything and over in Cyprus – and he tried to convince himself it must have been the holiday spirit dissipating the anger he had always had so ingrained inside of him. It wasn't as if anything else important had come into his life over the past week which would be such a calming influence on him, was it?

But now the rage had returned. As his thoughts spiralled around, working out what he needed to do to keep himself safe – as well as Steven, Eileen, Dec and Paddy – he let out a fierce growl and flung his head into his hands. He hated things being so out of his control – he hadn't felt this so far on the outside since his childhood – but that was another story. In his life back home he was always the perpetrator – always one step ahead of his rivals – always the one on top and always with a level of confidence that bordered more than a little on the side of arrogance. He knew how to play people – was a master manipulator – and it was the reason he had made such a name for himself. Nobody ever got one over on Brendan Brady.

Until now, perhaps.

Danny had taken him by surprise, and he was out here alone. None of his cronies around to help him, and he wasn't sure which of those he could really trust anymore. Pulling off that heist of Danny's drugs had taken months in the planning – it had been all he could focus on back in the UK – and he had thought every loose end had been tied up. There should have been no way for Danny to know it had been him. He had even spent the few weeks before the big day trying to win favour with Danny – trying to get on side so as to ease his suspicions even less. He had planned to offer Danny his services in 'finding the bastard who had screwed him over' as he was going to phrase it. And he had almost won Danny over in the build up; almost done enough to save his own skin.

And then one of his own men had turned on him. Pulled a gun to his head when it had been just the two of them and all of the drugs in the back of their van, pulled up on the side of the road as they both stood at the back of the van and stared at their haul with admiration. When they both thought they were far enough away to have escaped Danny's threat.

Eoghan Nolan – his own right hand man – had suddenly grown a pair in that moment and screwed everything up royally for the both of them. Brendan had stared down the barrel of that gun and all he had seen were his kids, and the extent to which he had fucked everything up for them. He hadn't been a good father. He didn't have an example to live by, so he had avoided it at all costs. He had figured if he wasn't there then at least he couldn't screw their lives up like his father had done to him.

He regretted it all in that moment.

_You thought you'd won._

Those were Eoghan's last words. The irony.

Brendan had never been one to feel fear when a gun was pointed to his head. He knew most people didn't have it in them to kill, not at such point blank range at least. It gave him little comfort in that moment though as he had seen Eoghan do such a task at his own insistence; he knew Eoghan had the balls. He did however have his fall back – he had never feared death. He had even invited it into his life a few times, all to have been saved or spared or let down or however people wanted to dress it up. He had drawn on his fearlessness in that moment.

He had squared up to Eoghan face on, walked towards the gun until it pressed into the dip in the middle of his forehead, and told him to shoot. Told him there was only one of them getting out of there alive.

And he had been right.

He remembered seeing the tiny flicker of uncertainty in Eoghan's eyes. He remembered thinking it had always been his hesitance that had held Eoghan back. He remembered sneering slightly, watching Eoghan's expression turn to confusion as it unnerved him. He remembered the realisation and fear glaze over Eoghan's expression as he moved quickly, gunshot reverberating behind his own head but it had been pulled as a too-late reaction to Brendan getting out of his way – out of the line of fire – and he rounded him in a flash, was behind Eoghan, knee in his lower back, arms pulled back behind his body, his own gun hitting him on the shoulder as he dropped it.

It was a bullet from one of Danny's men which had killed him.

He had picked up Eoghan's gun, squared him right around the head with it, and fully intended to finish the job himself until he had heard their cars approaching, closing in on them. He left his oldest friend unconscious on the ground as he ran back to the van and drove away.

The image he watched from his wingmirror – when Danny's men caught up with his former sidekick – would haunt him until his end of days.

He managed to shake them off eventually, securing the van full of drugs in the pre-arranged storage unit; the one set up for that exact purpose under a pseudonym but in what he had hoped would be slightly less harrowing circumstances.

Three hours later he had been on a flight to Cyprus.

And now Danny had found him. It wouldn't have taken a genius to work out that Brendan was involved as soon as they knew that Eoghan was. And Brendan knew it would only be a matter of time.

He just didn't think it would be quite this soon.

He looked at his watch again – it was just after 1pm. He knew the reps desk in reception opened at 1pm and he figured Steven would have made his way back by now to get to work. He had no idea what the boy would have to discuss with Danny for a whole hour anyway.

He decided he could risk it – could go down and see if Steven was back; if he was safe. If Danny was watching he would make it look like he was just innocently asking his holiday rep for some advice. He sure as hell couldn't keep himself locked up in this room any longer.

He checked his reflection in the mirror before leaving the room, smiling arrogantly at what he saw and letting his confidence re-emerge as he sauntered towards the lift. He was still Brendan Brady, after all. He wasn't going to be made to feel small and insignificant just because someone was baying for his blood.

He looked back at his own reflection in the mirrored walls of the lift as he made his way down. It wasn't like him to be feeling so rattled. He looked himself in the eye and frowned, shaking his head slightly at how weak he was acting. As if he was going to let Danny get the better of him; it just wasn't an option. He could still stand tall, after all, even though he may be out here on his own. He started out on his own, after all, and built a reputation up from there. If he had to start again, he would do.

When he thought about Steven, he knew he may have revealed too much to the boy in the past few days; may have let him get closer than the others had done. He wasn't used to having someone know so much about him – and he wasn't used to having to worry about someone else this much. Maybe he should cool it off a little with the boy? It wasn't doing him any good to be getting this close to one of his fucks, was it?

As soon as the lift doors opened and he cast his eyes over Steven's golden skin and beautiful face across the lobby, he knew he was kidding himself. It was as if spending even a few hours away from him caused him actual physical pain. Every time he saw the boy, he was astounded once again by how _fucking perfect _he was. There wasn't a single thing he would change about the boy. And it scared the shit out of him to think that he had just admitted that to himself.

He quickly glanced around the lobby – no Danny in sight – so he cautiously approached Steven at the desk. He had his back to him as he approached, and he had to physically restrain himself from placing his hands either side of his hips and pressing his semi-hardening cock into the crease of his arse. He settled for leaning in and whispering to his ear.

"Hey, ye missed -"

"Yes, Mr Brown, I understand completely," Ste interrupted Brendan's advances as he turned around to face him, gesturing towards the phone at his other ear.

Brendan rolled his eyes and held his wrist up as if he was pointing to his watch.

_Gonna be long? _He mouthed as Ste grimaced at the volume of his complaining customer on the line. He was desperate to know how it had gone with Danny, and didn't fancy waiting hours to find out.

"I will of course do my best, Mr Brown," Ste continued down the phone as he nodded apologetically at Brendan. He held his mobile mid air and whispered _Text Me_ before once again apologising profusely to what Brendan could tell was a very aggrieved holidaymaker.

Brendan nodded and walked away, feeling something similar to a sulk coming on. He didn't like it when his toys weren't available to play with. Especially when it was a toy he was becoming so ridiculously attached to.

Brendan sauntered through the hotel reception, stopping by the sofa's which lined the far side of the large room. He realised he was pacing again, and made a conscious effort to stop acting so erratically. He needed to concentrate on keeping up appearances, knowing Danny could be watching from any angle. He couldn't let him see any sign of weakness.

His vision was drawn over to Steven, and he watched him from the other side of the lobby, taking in his every movement. He felt the smile creeping involuntarily over his face, feeling relieved that the boy seemed relaxed, at least. That was something. His mind was elsewhere, engrossed in his work, but Brendan got the impression that if Danny had threatened him he wouldn't be acting so laid back. There was a glint in his eye every time he looked across - like the two of them shared this big secret – and Brendan smiled back at him every time. He took solace in the fact that the boy seemed more intent on flirting with him across the room that he did in telling him what Danny had said, and he figured that could only mean their meeting had gone to plan. He hoped so, anyway.

Brendan walked outside after a few minutes, catching Steven's eye and shooting him a smile as he passed him by to walk through the doors to the pool area. The boy was still waylaid with his customer on the phone, but Brendan let Steven watch his eyes travel appreciatively over his body, down to his groin, around to his arse as he passed him by and then back up to lock his eyes again. He smirked at the slight blush creeping over the boys cheeks and he wandered outside with a smile on his face.

He took up residence on one of the sun loungers in a quieter area of the pool. He could still watch Steven from where he was - could keep an eye on him - but he rested his head back and let the sun's rays permeate his skin.

He had been lying there less than five minutes when he sat back up again. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep – he had no idea why he was trying – not with everything that was running through his mind in that moment.

He glanced through the windows to the Reception area, eyes instinctively drawn to Steven as he leant forwards across the desk, facing away from him, his delectable arse displayed unapologetically in the air for all to see. He was clearly still on the phone, but Brendan couldn't resist distracting him.

He took out his phone and sent the boy a text.

_Hmm, the things I would do to that arse._

He watched on as a few seconds later Steven picked up his phone, read the text and stood up abruptly. He span around, looked for Brendan and cast him a playful warning when his eyes locked onto the Irishman's through the large windows in the lobby area.

_U bein cheeky?_

Steven replied, followed seconds later by:

_Sorry Bren im well busy_

Bren. He was getting used to that. Not even Eileen or Cheryl called him Bren. Usually any sort of nickname would have his hackles raised in seconds, but this made him feel good for some reason. Like he could get used to it.

_Don't worry. How did it go?_

Brendan replied. It was a couple of minutes before he got an answer. He could see Steven was busy messing around with papers and typing on his laptop, but he couldn't help feel annoyed that he was delaying telling him the one thing he desperately wanted to know.

He saw Steven on his phone a few minutes later and sighed with relief when his text came through.

_All went 2 plan. I will tell u evrythn l8r. Still up 4 it?_

The relief he felt that Steven had got through it in one piece was immeasurable, and he realised he had no idea why he cared so much. He let that part of his mind rest for now and starting thinking with another part of his anatomy.

_You really have to ask? What time do you finish?_

Steven's reply was quicker this time.

_5, y? Wen do u wana meet up?_

Brendan replied instantly.

_5.01?_

He was still watching Ste like a hawk, and a flash of heat ran through when he saw the boy's beaming smile when he read his text. He stopped what he was in the middle of and looked out towards Brendan, catching his eye and giving him a heart-stopping smile. He wrote his reply as he held Brendan's gaze.

_Ur eager ;)_

Brendan kept his eyes locked onto Ste's through the glass as he wrote back.

_And you're not? I heard you begging for me last night._

Ste blushed at the response, smirking as he cast a knowing glance in Brendan's direction before returning to his customer on the phone. He managed to reply a few minutes later.

_Behave urself_

It was a playful warning. Brendan knew the boy was enjoying it and he had no intention of behaving in any way.

_Why? I thought you'd like being reminded of how amazing I was._

Steven was face to face with a customer when he read that text, and Brendan could see the strain in his face as he tried to appear sincere, tried to stop the smile beaming across his face.

He wrote his reply right under the customers nose. If only they knew what their wholesome holiday rep was up to.

_Dunt need remindin Bren. Its all im thinkin bout_

Brendan decided it was time to play then. He watched as Ste ushered the customer to sit in the chair opposite him, obvious that they had something serious to discuss. Brendan couldn't resist – he wanted to watch the boy squirm.

This was going to be fun.

_What you thinking about the most? How amazing my cock felt inside of you? Or was my tongue better for you?_

He watched as Steven read his texts under the table, saw his eyebrows raise and his face flush almost instantly. He shot a look in Brendan's direction, and all the Irishman did was look back at him with a wink.

He knew Steven couldn't reply – knew he had work to be doing and a customer sat before him – but that didn't mean he was going to let up. If anything, it spurred him on.

_Tonight, Steven, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll still feel me inside of you tomorrow._

Ste exhaled sharply and smiled to himself as he closed his eyes slightly when he read it. It was working.

_I'm gonna suck your cock dry, take it all the way down, feel your warm spunk shoot down my throat. You taste divine, Steven._

Ste caught his breath when he read that one, and it made Brendan let out a rasped laugh to himself.

_How many times do you want my cock inside you tonight Steven? How many times do you want me to make you scream my name? How many times can I get you to come over my body?_

Ste slammed his phone down on the table, pushing it away from him. His breathing was getting heavier, and he was struggling to keep it together in the presence of his customer. It only spurred Brendan on more – this was the most fun he'd had in a while.

_You wanna taste me yet, Steven? Wanna let me fuck your mouth til you can't swallow again without feeling me there?_

Brendan watched as the customer was joined by their partner and Ste took the opportunity to pick up his phone and reply.

_I want it all._

Brendan breathed out heavily with a smile on his face. This boy was something else. He looked up to catch his gaze, but he was back deep in sales-mode with the two people in front of him. He wasn't going to let up just yet.

_Gonna make you sit on my face whilst I eat out your hole, taste you on me and make you so ready for my cock you'll be begging me for it. Begging me more than you are right now Steven, I promise. And when I give it to you you're gonna come for me so hard you'll forget you're even alive._

He watched as Steven read the text, and smirked at him when Ste seemed to excuse himself from his customers and storm over in his direction. As he paced outside of the lobby doors and over to Brendan's sunbed, Brendan couldn't help put notice the swelling in his groin, his erection pushing against the barriers of his clothes. He could only see it because he knew it was there, and it felt like their own little secret, and_ fucking hell_ it turned him on.

Ste approached him and stopped dead at the foot of his sunbed, hands on hips, looking down at him. He was trying to look angry, but Brendan knew he couldn't manage it.

"Problem, Steven?" Brendan asked innocently, fighting back the laughter which was threatening to escape.

"Don't you dare do this to me whilst I'm at work," Ste muttered, attempting to come across forceful but he knew he was fooling nobody. He knew Brendan was fully aware of how much he was enjoying each and every one of those text messages.

"I can't think what you're referring to, Steven?" Brendan replied, feigning indifference.

"You're filthy, Brendan Brady, you know that?" Ste replied with a whisper, the smirk starting to form over his face. He rounded the sunbed and leant over to speak into Brendan's ear, his skin sparking alive at the feel of the Irishman's stubble across his cheek.

"And the only way you'll be doing any of that to me later, Brendan, is if you behave yourself right now, ok?"

Ste pulled away and held Brendan's gaze, drank in the surprise that glazed over Brendan's expression and revelled in it – in the way he could control such a powerful man. The way he sometimes felt as if he had tamed the beast.

"Point taken," Brendan said innocently, acting like a school child who had just been disciplined.

Ste smiled back at him, but deep down he knew it all wasn't real. In any real relationship this would be the moment where he leant in and placed a chaste kiss against his lovers lips – a promise for what was to come later on. If he did that to Brendan right now, he wasn't sure he would ever see daylight again.

So instead he pulled himself away, walking back to his customers in the lobby, all too aware that Brendan's eyes would be fixed firmly on his arse as he walked away from him.

-s-

"You finished yet?"

He could feel Brendan's breath on his neck, the low hum of his voice as it vibrated against his skin, his lips far too close. He stood up straight and Brendan backed away instinctively. He turned to face the Irishman, and they both knew Brendan was pushing it. This was far too public to be doing something like that, and as much as it thrilled Ste to feel him so close, he knew as well as Brendan what was at stake here – and it wasn't just his marriage. It was both of their lives.

"Brendan -" Ste warned as he searched for an explanation in his eyes.

"I know," Brendan interrupted him, didn't need the boy to explain to him that such a public display of affection was dangerous. He had no idea what had made him get so close to the boy in public. It was as if just being in his presence had made him lose sight of the rest of it for just a moment – as if nothing else had mattered to him except Steven just then. And how ridiculous was that? "I didn't think, sorry," Brendan added.

Ste smiled at him then, looking at his watch. It was 4.59 – Brendan was certainly eager today.

"It's ok, it's just I thought you'd wanna be careful," Ste explained with a smile that Brendan mirrored. "Anyway, I'm nearly done, just finishing a few things up."

He looked down questioningly to the carrier bag that Brendan was holding.

"Supplies," Brendan explained with a wink. "I ain't having a replay of this morning."

Ste couldn't help but laugh.

"Why don't you head up to your room, I'll finish up here and meet you up there, yeah?"

Brendan looked into his eyes and nodded slowly.

"Hm, ok," he replied, "Be quick, though, yeah."

Ste had to laugh at that. "I'm hardly gonna wait around down here after your little display this afternoon am I?" he teased.

Brendan smirked and walked off towards the lift, all sorts of sordid thoughts circulating around his mind.

-s-

Ste paused as he stood outside the Brady's hotel room. The last time he had been here was the night Brendan had found him after his mugging. He hadn't been all that aware of what was happening at the time – hadn't had much of a chance to appreciate where Brendan was taking him. The time before that had been the night he'd first met the Irishman, and he let his thoughts travel back to that night as he knocked on the door tentatively, casting his mind back to the electricity he had felt that night, and how differently he had felt that time.

He hadn't realised it on that first meeting, and he knew it sounded ridiculous even as the thought passed through him, but so much had changed for him in that moment. He had stood there and locked eyes with the Irishman, and the electricity had been palpable. At the time, Ste was finally ready to accept his sexuality – finally ready to let himself explore the possibility of being with another man - and there had been something so magnetic about the attraction he'd felt towards Brendan in those few stolen moments they had shared that he hadn't been able to ignore it.

Now that he knew what the two of them had become, he wondered whether that had been the moment he'd fallen for the Irishman.

"Hey," Brendan smirked at he opened the door, halting Ste in his train of thoughts that right in that moment he felt like slapping himself for.

"Hey," Ste replied as he flushed slightly.

Brendan stared back with the same intensity he had done that first night - eyes piercing into him, reading him so effortlessly and yet this time it was different. This time Ste saw the smirk threatening to form behind his eyes. This time Ste knew the man before him - knew what kind of man he was; knew what made him tick; knew what he would have to do to have this man begging at his feet. Now he had power over him - more than Brendan would ever let him believe he had – but it was unmistakable. Ste could make this man do anything he wanted to when they were in the heat of the moment, and this knowledge gave Ste a renewed sense of confidence.

"You gonna invite me in then?" Ste asked with urgency.

"You bet," Brendan replied, taking a second to glance down the corridor before he hooked his two fingers into Ste's polo top and pulled him inside the room, into a searingly passionate kiss, closing the door behind them as he did so.

Brendan pulled him further into the room, before pushing him back and pinning Ste up against the wall. He kissed him with such vigour he knew the boy would be walking out of here with bruised lips, pushing his groin up against Ste's and letting out a moan of satisfaction at the feel of his hardened cock as it rubbed up against his own through their clothing.

"Don't you wanna know what happened with Danny?" Ste asked, words broken between their kisses as they neared desperation.

"He believe you?" Brendan purred back, words punctuated with the slurp of their tongues as they danced together.

"Uh-huh," Ste confirmed, mumbling into Brendan's mouth.

"Then it can wait," Brendan said.

Five minutes earlier he had been desperate to know how the boy had got on with Danny, but right now it couldn't be further from the forefront of his mind. If he had let himself stop to think about it, it might have scared him how little power he had over his own thoughts when he had Steven at his mercy. When it was just him and Steven, and nothing else; when the rest of the world didn't seem to matter and they were hidden behind locked doors; when there was no-one there to judge them other than themselves. In those moments, Steven was the most powerful man he had ever met. And in all honesty, it scared him to the bone.

He pushed the thoughts of romanticism to the back of his mind. This wasn't about emotions, after all, was it? This was about sex – and right in that moment that should have been the only thing on his mind.

He pushed himself up into Steven's body, feeling the dizzying satisfaction of his hardened cock rubbing against his own, pleasure coiling deep inside of him and letting out an involuntary groan that Steven echoed as he thrust up against him a second time.

He slid his hands down Steven's side, grasping at his arse as he rounded behind him and lifting at his thighs. Ste took the hint straight away, lifting his legs to hook them behind Brendan's back, knowing he would hold his weight with his push up against him, his body suffocated between Brendan's heat and the wall behind him.

Brendan moved backwards, backing up to the bed and falling backwards when he reached it, Ste falling on top of him and straddling him, giggling with the excitement he saw reflected back in Brendan's smile.

Ste started kissing down Brendan's jawline and to his neck, his hands finding their way forwards and unbuttoning Brendan's shirt as his lips traced their way down, following his hands and worshipping each new inch of skin as it was revealed; Brendan responding with a groan of satisfaction with each breath of contact; Ste sensing the shiver as it coursed through the Irishman's body.

"What ye planning, Steven," Brendan asked, breathless with anticipation, no doubt in his mind where Steven was heading and his body sparking into life with the thought of it.

Ste didn't respond – knew that Brendan was fully aware of his plans – just continued his assault on the Irishman's senses as he reached the thick hairs at the base of Brendan's torso. He let them tickle against his face, the unfamiliar feeling of such a display of masculinity that he had never been close to before. He nimbly undid Brendan's trousers, pulling them down over the swell of his arse as Brendan lifted to allow Ste to rid him of them completely, flinging his head back against the pillow as he felt the wet tip of Ste's tongue graze against his slit.

"Fuck, Steven," he breathed out – part appreciation; part desperation.

He knew Steven had never done this before – knew for a fact that he was inexperienced, but he teased him with such expertise that he would never had guessed.

Ste let his tongue work its way along Brendan's impressive length, cupping his balls and smiling to himself at the noises his actions were eliciting from Brendan's mouth; his words of encouragement making Ste harder than he thought possible.

He kissed and licked and sucked at his rock hard length, circling his tongue around the tip and tasting the saltiness of his pre come as it seeped from his slit. He teased him with each touch of his tongue, the obscenity of the noises of his mouth slurping against Brendan's cock exciting him, and he wanted more – wanted Brendan to explode at his touch. He opened up, took Brendan down as far as he could before his gag reflex threatened to kick in; all too aware of Brendan writhing beneath him, loving every second, coming apart at Ste's touch and if his mouth wasn't so full he would have grinned with self-satisfaction at the way he was working the Irishman open.

Brendan lost control of his emotions, bucking his hips up into the boy's mouth, fucking into him and calling out his name, in awe at the way he was taking him down so far, wanton look in his eyes as he gazed back up at him and they locked eyes together.

"Fuck," Brendan called out as he completely lost his breath – the sight of Steven swallowing down so much of his length in one go, looking back up at him with such innocence in his eyes, such eagerness to please and the feeling he had bubbling up inside of him was so unfamiliar it caught him off guard; the sudden rush of emotion so alien to him; unfamiliar words on the tip of his tongue and threatening to escape his lips but he forced them back down – couldn't even admit their meaning to himself, let alone let Steven hear them - and he tried to shake the thought from his mind.

He couldn't risk staying like that much longer – couldn't risk watching Steven swallow him down like that, his orgasm threatening to erupt deep inside of him and he didn't trust himself to keep the words suppressed down if Steven made him come like this – didn't trust himself to keep emotions out of it.

He panicked – had never felt this out of control in the thick of it – and needed to break away from the boy; needed to take back the control and remind himself that this was just fucking. Just sex. Nothing more. It couldn't be anything more.

He sat himself up, pulling away from Steven's beautiful, wet mouth as he did so, and smiled at the boy to keep the concerned look of his face. He hadn't done anything wrong – not a single thing – and Brendan didn't want his pulling away to make the boy think otherwise.

"Need to fuck you," Brendan explained as he reached to the side table and took a condom and the bottle of lube. "Come here, on your front," he demanded.

Ste obliged willingly, shedding himself of his clothes as he moved along the bed, unable to keep the smile off his face. As he moved up he stopped to kiss Brendan languidly on the lips, Brendan groaning as he tasted the bitter saltiness of his own pre-come against Steven's lips, and he felt his hands pulling Steven close to him, unable to let his body move too far away from him.

He pulled away, pushing Ste back down onto the bed, face first, spreading the lube over his hands and pushing a finger up inside of the boy's tight hole, feeling him keen up into him desperately.

"More," he begged below him, voice muffled by the pillow and Brendan obliged, thrusting in another finger and stretching the boys hole, feeling his muscles loosening gradually with each push inwards.

"Ready?" he asked after he had worked him open, shocking himself with how cold he sounded - how difficult it was for him to keep his resolve.

"Fuck yes," Ste replied, desperate, almost begging for it, oblivious to Brendan's interior battle as his body pulsed with need.

Brendan ripped open the foil wrapper and rolled the condom on, slicking himself up with lube and spreading the leftover around Ste's hole. He positioned himself behind him, taking hold of his hips and becoming breathless as he pushed the tip up against Ste's tight ring.

"Jesus," he swore as he breached Ste's tight entrance, feeling himself lose control of his own body, flinging his head back.

Ste was responding to every thrust below him, trying to sit up, trying to lean back into Brendan's embrace but he couldn't do it – couldn't let this resemble anything other than what it had to be for Brendan. He had to force himself to keep this as a purely physical exchange – repeating to himself that this was a fuck and nothing else. Nothing else.

Ste tried to turn his head and catch Brendan's eye - tried to pull his body down against him and steal a strained kiss from Brendan's lips - but Brendan pushed him away, forced his head forwards and stopped him from being able to turn his head. He couldn't trust himself to keep his feelings hidden in the depths of his heart; afraid he couldn't keep the words suppressed if he dared to look into Steven's eyes and the very thought of it brought his body to convulsion, his orgasm tearing through him, the white hot heat of his excitement pulsing through his length and into latex.

He collapsed against Steven's back, sliding his hand around and pulling on the boy's cock for the final few strokes, feeling his muscles contracting around him, milking him dry within seconds as Steven came forcefully below him.

As he recovered from the intensity of what he had just put his body through – of what Steven had just done to him – he caught his breath and exhaled with what Steven would have seen as exhaustion, but what he knew to be relief.

Relief that he had managed to get through it without telling Steven exactly what it was all beginning to mean to him.

-s-

After a short recovery, a shower, and an inexplicably awkward few moments (for Ste at least), they both dressed and Ste leant in to kiss Brendan as he walked out of his hotel room.

"So, meet you at that Italian restaurant on the corner in an hour, yeah?"

"One hour, Steven," Brendan confirmed, placing another chaste kiss against his lips then closing the door.

He spent that hour showering off their sordidness. He didn't like being alone after spending time with Steven. With the other men he had always been able to tell himself that it had just been about the sex – that once he had washed away the evidence, he would have a clear head and that he could carry on with the rest of his life and not feel guilty about what had happened. That it was just a weakness of his, and that once he had scratched that itch he could carrying on living life as normal. He could tell himself that it meant nothing to him.

But after Steven, he had trouble convincing himself. The less time he spent by himself, the less he had to face up to it – but he couldn't deny that there was something he had to face up to. That Steven _wasn't _like the rest. That Steven was _different. _

That what he had forced himself to keep suppressed as he had fucked Steven earlier had been a truth he couldn't keep hidden much longer.

No.

He couldn't let himself think like that. He wouldn't let himself.

He plugged in his iPod and turned the volume up to full blast as he got himself dressed. If anyone could drown out these ridiculous thoughts he was having, it was Johnny Cash.

He suppressed the thoughts from his mind by torturing himself with memories about Danny Houston – about anything he could use against him, any weakness he may have shown to him in the few times they had met and spoken. He was sure there was something he could use, and he wracked his brain trying to think of it. Better using the time alone thinking of him rather than thinking of Steven.

He was dressed and ready within the hour, and took the short stroll down to the resort. He told himself to play it cool - to try and keep a sense of detachment from the boy for the sake of his own sanity - to keep at bay any risk of a repeat of that afternoon. He reached the restaurant and walked inside, finding Steven already there at a table in the far corner. Good boy, getting a table as far out of view as he could.

As soon as he caught sight of him, his resolved fizzled away immediately. Something about the sight of this boy just caught the breath in his throat, and altered everything he thought he knew about himself.

"This seat taken?" Brendan asked with a glint in his eye. Steven looked up at him and smiled, and the sight pierced right through his ice cold heart and thawed it instantly.

"Yeah, some well fit Irish bloke's sitting there," Ste teased.

"Oh right, you're a lucky fella then ain't ye," Brendan retorted with a smirk, "I hear the Irish make the best lovers."

"I've got no complaints," Ste smirked back as Brendan pulled out the chair and took the seat.

Brendan tried to ignore the fact that he had just referred to them as _lovers_. Obviously he had meant in the physical sense. He hoped Steven realised that - sure that he had done by the lack of any kind of acknowledgement of the term.

They each pored over the menu for a few moments, the silence between them so full of the depth of everything unsaid between them that there was no room for any awkwardness. Ste raised his gaze every few minutes hoping to catch Brendan's eye, but the Irishman kept his line of sight locked firmly downwards. He knew Steven was looking - could feel his eyes boring into the top of his head – but he wasn't going to sit out in public in a restaurant and stare all doe-eyed across the table at Steven like they were some lovesick teenagers. It wasn't like this was a date, after all, was it?

The waiter approached them and took their order, and Brendan noticed how Ste pouted when he requested his fish dish.

"Why don't ye have the steak?" Brendan asked him as he ordered his own fillet.

"No, fish is fine," Ste replied, start of a sulk forming which Brendan assumed was a result of his refusal to acknowledge his presence in the last few minutes.

He didn't push the boys menu choice, despite knowing he would much prefer a chunk of tender meat. There were more pressing matters he needed to discuss.

"So, you never got the chance to tell me about Danny earlier," Brendan said as soon as the waiter left their table.

"Yeah, kind of got distracted didn't we?" Ste replied, the warmth returning to his eyes. Brendan smiled as he realised how easy it was to bring this boy out of a sulk – any mention of their bedroom antics and he had him eating out of the palm of his hand.

"What happened?" Brendan asked calmly, "Did he go for it?"

"Yeah, I think so -"

"You think so?" Brendan interrupted sharply, panic rising through him. He didn't need to be reminded of the consequences to both himself and Steven should Danny have caught on to their plan. "How sure are you?"

"Pretty sure, alright," Ste sassed back at him, "God, you need to chill out, Bren -"

"Steven, you do know what's at stake here don't you?" Brendan scolded.

"Alright, yeah, Bren I'm not a child – I get it. If he hasn't believed me then I've fucked everything up," Ste pouted back. "Proved how useless I am," he added quietly.

Brendan groaned and flung his head back.

"Fucks sake, Steven. You're not useless, ok?" Brendan assured, tone etched with frustration. He had spent all day watching Steven closely, and one thing he could be sure of was that he was not useless. He was one of the bravest men he had ever met.

"Did he buy it then or not?" Brendan asked again when he heard no confirmation from the Mancunian.

"Well, he didn't ask any questions," Ste confirmed. "And I told him I could help him...with...y'know?"

"Bringing me down?" Brendan asked, deadpan.

Ste couldn't help but laugh at that, drawing a soft smile out of Brendan as he looked across at him.

"Bringing down the mighty Brendan Brady, yeah," Ste quipped with a smirk.

"Oh, plenty have tried and failed, boy, believe me," Brendan teased back, drinking in the effortless smile that spread over Steven's face. "So, come on, Steven. Tell me what he said."

Ste sighed before relaying to Brendan how he had told Danny about Brendan staying at the hotel, and how Danny had wanted to leave it there but Ste had pushed for more, and managed to persuade Danny to let him help him, so that he was now on the inside.

"He says it's going down tomorrow," Ste said as the waiters arrived with their food.

Brendan hissed under his breath as the waiter put his plate down. He couldn't deny he wished Steven had mentioned that small detail earlier.

"Tomorrow?" Brendan whispered once the waiter had left, slight panic in his voice, his words almost a hiss as they left his mouth.

"Yeah, I gave him my number he's gonna let me know the details later," Ste replied innocently.

"Don't ye think ye should have mentioned this sooner? It's _tomorrow, _Steven," Brendan cursed under his breath.

Ste shot him a glance then, finally picking up on his frustrated tone. He wasn't going to be spoken to like that, not when he was putting everything on the line for Brendan.

"Right, look, Brendan," Ste hissed back at him, "I'm doing all this to cover your arse, right, and I ain't havin' you havin' a go at me just 'cause you got distracted earlier and didn't give me a chance to tell you what was happening -"

Ste stopped in his defence when he saw the smirk spreading over Brendan's face. It calmed him almost instantly.

"What?" Ste asked, unsure of himself.

"You're...cute. When you're angry," Brendan breathed out, almost a whisper, returning his gaze to his meal below.

Ste couldn't help but notice how the word _cute _sounded so strange coming from Brendan's mouth. He wondered if he had ever actually said it before, and the thought sent a hot flash through him. He wanted so much for something about the two of them to be a _first _for Brendan, like Brendan had been a first for him.

He couldn't know how many of Brendan's rules he was actually breaking just by being there with him right now.

They ate their meal in amiable silence, exchanging glances across the table and occasionally passing comments about how good their food was - Brendan telling Ste that he was sure it wasn't as good as his cooking; Ste promising to try Brendan's creme brulee before he went home.

The waiter cleared their plates as soon as they had finished and Brendan declined dessert on behalf of both of them, asking for the bill straight away.

Ste tried to convince himself that it wasn't because Brendan was desperate to get away from him - all to aware that he was probably just eager to get him back to their hotel room - but he couldn't help but feel insecure when he had become to involuntarily attached to the Irishman.

"Eileen's back tomorrow," Ste let out. It had been on his mind for a while, and as much as he didn't want anything to ruin their night together, he couldn't not mention it.

"So's Anne," Brendan replied, dodging the brunt of Ste's comment.

"That's not what I mea -"

"Let's just leave it for tonight, yeah?" Brendan interrupted him, noticing the boy flinch slightly at the raised level of his tone. "Let's just enjoy tonight, ok?" he added softly, trying to placate the mood.

"Yeah ok," Ste replied, casting his eyes back down to the table and remaining as obedient as he could do.

Brendan let the silence play out for a few moments, finding his tension ease away with each passing minute, replaced by amusement as he watched Ste sulking.

He sighed eventually, realising he was going to have toapologise if he was going to have any chance of watching Ste come apart for him later on.

"I'm sorry I raised my voice to ye, Steven," he admitted sombrely, locking eyes with the boy as he raised his face back up to Brendan's level. "I know tonight hasn't exactly been perfect. I didn't mean to piss ye off, ok, I just don't really wanna think about my wife right now."

Brendan paused to let his words settle in. They seemed slightly alien even to him. He didn't usually apologise to anybody, let alone people like Steven. He couldn't help but think about how many things he had done out of character since meeting the boy. Like right now, for example, as they sat in a restaurant together. Alone.

"It's fine," Ste said gently, "It's not like this is a date or anything, right?"

Brendan didn't answer the question. He felt stupid denying it in that moment.

"Shall we walk back along the beach?" Brendan asked. He knew he risked the boy reading more into than he wanted him too, but he felt like he owed him. Ste had put himself on the line earlier on with Danny, and Brendan had done nothing but snap at him over dinner. The pressure was getting to him, and he urged himself to make the most of this little bubble himself and Steven were in – before his wife returned and the rest of the world caught up with them tomorrow.

"Is that a good idea?" Ste replied, all too aware of the threat of Danny Houston.

"I think we can risk it," Brendan replied, feeling reckless. "Sounds like your little meeting with Danny will have kept him quiet until tomorrow at least."

They smiled over the table at each other. Ste almost let himself believe that it was all real - that everything he was feeling for the Irishman wasn't a figment of his imagination – that it could all be mutual after all. Surely there had to be more than just the physical between them, he thought. Surely he didn't look at everyone the way that he looked at him. Surely he didn't completely come apart for anyone else the way he did with him. Surely this was different from everything before.

It certainly was for Ste anyway.

He shook his head as he left the table and waited outside the restaurant, letting Brendan pay for the meal at his insistence. He breathed out a laugh – for something that he was so insistent on not being a date, it sure did resemble one.

Brendan joined him outside and Ste found himself captivated once again by how good he looked. It was as if when he spent any length of time away from Brendan he forgot how beautiful he was – especially in this crisp, white, big-collared shirt he had chosen for their evening together – and how weak it made Ste feel inside. And then he would see him again, and it would all rush over him; all the feelings that surfaced involuntarily. He had no control over the grip Brendan Brady was beginning to have over his life.

"You ready?" Brendan asked as he approached him.

"Yeah," Ste replied as they walked off together towards the beach.

They walked along in silence for a short while – both of them so consumed with their thoughts and trying to suppress them that neither of them had the energy to engage in conversation. Ste noticed it wasn't awkward, however. In fact, he had never felt this comfortable in someone else's company in his life. Not even Amy, or Anne. It was as if he didn't need to say anything – as if everything he was thinking or feeling was being reflected back at him when he looked into Brendan's eyes. Like however it was he was feeling - even if he hadn't totally worked out how that was yet - he didn't need to put it into words, because Brendan felt it too.

But he didn't dare let himself believe that. He knew people like Brendan Brady, and they weren't capable of love. Let alone with someone like him.

It was Brendan who broke the silence, and his words were tentative and unsure.

"Will ye tell me what it is that Danny has over ye?"

Ste looked over at Brendan, and if he hadn't known any better he may have said it was concern in his eyes.

"I told ya," Ste replied quietly, "He helped me out with something a while back -"

"That's not gonna cut it, Steven," Brendan interrupted, his face creased into a grimace as he stopped and pulled on Ste's arm to bring him to face him. "Why won't ye tell me?"

Ste huffed and turned away from him, continuing to walk along the sand and waiting for Brendan to catch him up.

"Please, Steven," Brendan pleaded behind him - the intensity of his request melting Ste's resolve far too quickly.

Ste could sense Brendan walking a couple of paces behind him - giving him his space - and after letting a few moments of silence pass between them, he decided it was time to talk. It was clear Brendan wouldn't stop asking, and deep down he knew he could trust him with the truth.

It wasn't going to be easy to tell him - he hadn't ever told anybody the whole truth - but he stopped and let Brendan catch up with him, took a deep breath, and started speaking.

"Like I told you before, I used to deal for someone back home," Ste revealed, almost at a whisper. Brendan quickened his pace so he was right at Steven's side and could hear his every word.

"Who?" Brendan asked.

"It dun't matter who, Bren, but it weren't Danny, it was someone else. And I was a right cocky little twat back then, thought no-one could touch me. I needed money for my kids and for Amy and I were desperate, so I tried being clever. I don't want you to think I'm the kind of person who screws people over, or that I can't be trusted – it's just that I was desperate, ok?"

Brendan signalled his understanding with a grunt and a nod as he listened on intently.

"Anyway, I did something stupid," Ste continued, face firmly fixed to the ground – he couldn't bear to see Brendan judging him. "I stole from him – not much, just enough to make a few extra hundred one night – but he found out. He wanted to teach me a lesson so he did what everyone like you does to make a point – he went after the people closest too me. Knew my weakness and went straight for it."

Brendan tried to gloss over the insinuation Steven had just made about people like him. He couldn't deny Steven was pretty accurate. It was the first rule in the world he lived in – don't show anyone your weakness, because that gives someone else the ability to shoot straight to the heart if they ever wanted anything from you.

He let Steven continue.

"He took Amy, and the kids. While I was out dealing to some students in some seedy rave somewhere, he went into my home and took the three of them and all he left was three bullets on the kitchen table and a note telling me I had to get him his money back plus interest or he ..."

Ste broke off as he felt the tears start to prickle behind his eyes. He had never spoken to anybody about that time in his life – he'd never had the strength to face that it was him and his own actions that had put the three most important people in his life in danger.

He felt his body giving up as he tried to hold it all together, and as the tears started to flow he felt himself being enveloped in Brendan's warm embrace.

"Hey, it's ok," Brendan reassured him, whispering into his neck as he held his boy close, one arm snaked around his neck with his hand against the back of his head, and the other around his waist, pulling him close as if he wanted to absorb all of the pain from his body and make everything better.

"I couldn't get the money..." Ste explained between sobs, Brendan shushing him and telling him everything was going to be ok. He instantly regretted pushing Ste into telling him the truth – he could only imagine how he would react if anyone threatened his kids.

"He said he would wipe the debt..." Ste continued, stuttering in between ragged breaths, "If I...If I..." he looked up to Brendan, willing him to know what he was about to say without him needing to speak the words.

"If you what?" Brendan asked, desperate to know.

"If I..." Ste continued, still unable to finish his sentence. He looked Brendan in the eye, tears still falling gently down his cheeks.

"Tell me," Brendan pleaded.

"He tried to...y'know..." Ste continued, physically unable to say what he needed to.

"No..." Brendan pulled away from him, staring desperately into Ste's eyes as it dawned on him what Steven couldn't say - that whoever it was, he'd tried to force Steven to sleep with him, and it made Brendan's blood boil. "He didn't -"

"He tried to," Ste admitted between tears.

"Who is he?" Brendan pleaded, menace lacing his tone, red mist fully descended.

"It's not important," Ste cried, "Please, Brendan, just drop it."

"I can't," Brendan grimaced. "How...how can...tell me who it was," he pleaded again.

"Brendan, don't," Ste begged in response, "It's in the past, Brendan, can't you just leave it there?"

He watched as Brendan struggled to force the thought to the back of his mind. It hit him how much he was surprised by Brendan's reaction – how fervently angry he had been at the suggestion of someone forcing themselves on Ste like that. How the insinuation had seemed to physically hurt him, his expression now a constant grimace with the images that haunted him.

"Danny interrupted him, just before..." Ste explained quietly, filling the heated silence between them. "His face...I'll never forget the disgust on his face at what he saw."

Ste let the thought settle between them. Brendan looked as if he was in physical pain at the revelation.

"Danny stopped him before he could do anything," he explained, trying to soothe Brendan. "He saw how desperate we were. He almost looked human for a moment when he realised what the guy was about to do. He took pity, cut a deal with the guy as long as he left me, Amy and the kids alone. He knew the guy, and he could have just walked away and left us but he didn't. He saved us. But he lost a lot of money in using us as part of the bargain."

"And now he's making you pay," Brendan spoke quietly, defeated.

"That's how people like Danny work, though, isn't it?" Ste acquiesced. "You should know that."

Brendan didn't have the energy to bite back. He let his eyes cast over the broken boy before him, and all he could think of doing was holding him in his arms and trying to take away all the pain he had been through.

It started to make sense now – how that first night on the beach Ste had fought back, how it was clear he had suffered at the hands of someone in the past. He wasn't sure this person was the full extent of the pain he had endured – but it was obvious he had shaped the person Ste had become. The person who had made his way so far into Brendan's life that he actually started to believe nothing would ever be the same again – that he might not be able to function properly without this boy in his life.

"Danny tried making me deal for him, to pay him back," Ste continued. "But I didn't want any of it. I didn't want to be in that world anymore. So I took the drugs he gave me and I flushed them, then I ran away - packed up Amy and the kids and moved away, hoping he wouldn't find us - wouldn't bother looking for us. I knew someone like Danny Houston would have bigger fish to fry. And then I took the job out here thinking he wouldn't look this far from home, and that he'd never find me."

"But he did," Brendan said, deep in thought. "Because of me - because he came looking for me and you were here, he found you."

"It's not your fault, Brendan," Ste assured him, seeing the guilt behind his eyes. "It's not your fault."

He walked forwards and pulled Steven into his embrace. He held him close – closer than he had held anyone for a long time – and let his arms circle his skinny frame. He released a breath of relief when Ste held him back, snaked his arms around Brendan's solid frame and supported the two of them as they stood wrapped up in each other's protection. He thought in that moment that he never wanted to move again. He wanted time to stand still. He wanted Eileen to never have to return; he wanted Danny and the threat to his life to disappear; he wanted the outside world and all of their judgement and accusations to fizzle away. He wanted himself and this man in his arms to be all that mattered. It certainly felt as if it was all that mattered in that moment.

It was Ste that pulled away first, after a tender few moments in each others protection.

"Isn't this where we first kissed?" he asked with a hint of mischief, trying to lighten to mood, looking down at the sunlounger at their feet – the exact same one where Brendan had sat that night. "D'ya remember?"

Brendan laughed at that.

"Course I remember," he smiled, then winced slightly thinking about what he had done afterwards.

"Don't," Ste reassured him, all too aware of what Brendan was remembering.

"Sorry -"

"I've already forgiven ya," Ste insisted, before closing the gap and placing a kiss against Brendan's welcoming lips, as if to prove his redemption of Brendan's actions that night.

"You're so brave, y'know Steven," Brendan whispered in between kisses.

Ste laughed at that. If there was one thing he had never been called, it was brave.

"You havin' a laugh -"

"You are," Brendan interrupted, before silencing his protestations with a passionate kiss, opening his mouth to let Steven lick his way inside, devouring every part of this boy that he held so tenderly in his arms.

And this time, he didn't push him away. He wasn't sure he could ever do that again.

-s-

Two hundred metres down the beach, a solitary hooded figure stood leaning up against the wall at the back of the beach, watching the two men as they pawed over each other, thinking they were alone and that nobody was watching.

He smirked to himself, shaking his head at how reckless they were. They had no idea he had been following their every move for the past few hours.

He rubbed his hands in anticipation of the fun he was going to have the following day, taking out his phone and typing out a message, selecting Ste's name in his phone book and pressing send before he took a final look at the lovers entwined further down the beach and walked away.

Ste pulled apart from Brendan as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. The colour drained from his face as he read the text he had just been sent.

_Two pm tomorrow. The old ruin outside of the old town. Bring Brady. DH_


	14. Chapter 14

_**I know I say it every time, but thank you so much for all of your reviews. I genuinely get nervous every time I update and it just warms the bottom of my heart to see your lovely words :)**_

_**Here's the calm before the storm ;)**_

Day Eleven Part One

Ste's second morning waking up in Brendan's arms was in stark contrast to the first. Yesterday had been exciting, and new, and full of unsurety; and had left him nervous about what was to come between the pair of them.

Today, he'd never felt closer to the Irishman. And there was something else entirely which was making him nervous.

Last night they'd stood on the beach together, and Brendan had held him in his arms, and he'd been so sure in that moment that things had gone further than either of them intended. This wasn't just sex for Ste, any more. This was so much more for him now.

He was always realistic – cynical of being caught up in the moment of a whirlwind romance – and all too aware that people like Brendan didn't care about other people too easily. But he was sure there was something more between them – some connection that he couldn't have been imagining – and he wanted to know for sure that Brendan felt the same.

Only, how do you asking a notorious criminal if they're in love with you? Are people like him even capable of love?

Ste knew he couldn't just up and ask him, and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Brendan what he was feeling without being sure that Brendan reciprocated it, even if it was just a small amount.

He knew Brendan was dangerous, and he wasn't about to do anything to get on the wrong side of him. He trusted him, and he was almost sure that Brendan wouldn't ever do anything to hurt him – but he knew he had to be wary all the same. The rules were a little different with people like Brendan, after all.

When he'd got the text from Danny on the beach the night before, he was sure he'd seen something in Brendan's eyes. There was a hint of fear – which he'd tried to hide, naturally – but there was concern there as well. And when he'd followed that up by asking if Ste was alright, if he thought he could go through with it, Ste realised it was concern for him, and not for his own safety.

And when they'd got back to Brendan's hotel room, and Brendan had stripped him of his clothes and taken him to bed, it was different than it had been before. It was slower, more tender – as if Brendan was trying to make it last. It felt more intimate than it had ever been before, and Ste couldn't help feeling as if Brendan was trying to savour every moment; as if the thought of something happening with Danny was always at the back of his mind, and he was trying to tell Ste what he couldn't quite put into words.

They'd done it three times during the night. It felt like Brendan was making sure he got the most that he could out of Ste before it was too late.

Ste didn't know if it was all in his head though – wishful thinking, maybe – but it meant he had woken up this morning feeling more connected to the Irishman than he ever had to anyone he'd ever known before.

And he knew in that moment that there was no going back. He was in love with Brendan. In love with Brendan Brady.

It sounded so absurd even in his own head that he laughed with it, and he noticed Brendan stirring next to him as he did so.

"What's so funny," Brendan asked sleepily, half opening his bleary eyes as if he knew he couldn't miss seeing the smile on Ste's face.

"Nothing," Ste lied as he leant in to kiss Brendan's lips. He had come to realise how much softer they were in the mornings, and he loved the feel of them.

He smiled as he allowed himself to collapse into Brendan's embrace, feeling his warm arms enveloping him, and it was as if having admitted to himself that he was in love with Brendan made everything heightened. He felt it all now – felt how incredible it was – and he fought away the nagging thought in the back of his mind that reminded him that Brendan wasn't his, and that he would be leaving soon to go back to his 'other' life in the UK – the one he shared with his wife and kids.

Either that or Danny Houston was going to kill him today.

Brendan felt Ste's shudder against his body, and watched the blood drain from his face.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Ste looked up into his eyes, and he knew he didn't need to explain. Brendan was well aware of the problem. He could tell with the way goosebumps broke out of the Irishman's forearms – his own body betraying the fear he kept hidden within.

"Hey," Brendan reassured, bringing his forefinger under Ste's chin and coaxing his head to turn towards him fully. "I ain't gonna let anything happen to ye, alright?"

Ste stared back at him for a moment.

"It's not me I'm worried about," Ste admitted openly.

Brendan laughed, a slight menace to his tone, as he looked away from Ste and went to get out of bed.

"Don't worry about me, kid," he said coldly, "I can handle myself."

Ste didn't answer – he wasn't quite sure why, but he had noticed a shift in the atmosphere in the room. He wasn't sure if it was because Brendan was scared – he was facing his enemy this afternoon – but it didn't feel quite like that. It felt like rejection. Like Brendan was rejecting him for daring to care about whether he lived or died.

Ste watched as Brendan stood out of the bed, taking his phone from the side and calling someone.

"Hey Foxy, how ye doing?" he heard Brendan say before he disappeared into the bathroom.

Ste knew he was making plans – they'd spent all night distracting themselves from what was going to happen later in the day, and he wasn't too stupid so as to think that Brendan wouldn't have things that needed slotting into place before their meeting with Danny that afternoon.

He took from Brendan's change in tone that their love-in was over, and he slid himself out of bed to get dressed. He thought about the way Brendan had been with him last night – how he'd been so sure that things had changed between the two of them – that something had shifted and it seemed more _important _now, but he resigned himself to it eventually. He guessed Brendan was just saying and acting the way he thought he needed to to get Ste into bed with him.

He reminded himself – more bitterly than he had had to do before – that this was just a holiday fling for the Irishman. This was just sex.

He pushed away his earlier thoughts of love, instead pulling on the clothes he had worn the night before, reluctantly sitting himself down to put on his shoes.

"Hey, what happened," Brendan joked as he came out of the bathroom, phone call over. "Didn't realise the party was over so soon."

Ste smiled, despite his brain spinning with confusion. What was with all the hot then cold then hot again this morning?

Brendan was smiling at him again, and he had that all too familiar look in his eye.

"I thought you were busy -"

"I had to make a call, y'know," Brendan explained. "But I ain't done with you yet, boy."

He hardly gave Ste chance to react before he was on top of him, straddling the younger lad as he lay on the bed, pulling his t-shirt up over his head.

"They're back at 11 you know," Ste reminded him, referring to the imminent arrival of his wife and kids.

Brendan smiled that captivating smile that made Ste's insides flip manically. He reached into Ste's pocket, bringing out his phone and checking the time.

"I'd say that gives us, hmm, 38 minutes," he drawled sexily.

"You serious?" Ste asked, more than a little shocked that Brendan was prepared to draw it so close to the wire.

"I'm always serious about this," he replied as he leant in and devoured Ste in a passionate kiss, lips bashing against lips, his tongue pushing forwards and tasting the back of Ste's mouth.

Ste rolled his hips up against Brendan as he sat above him, feeling his resolve weakening. He wanted so much in the seconds before to be mad at Brendan – to tell him that he wasn't just some toy he could pick up and drop when he felt like it; to make sure he knew that he needed to stop blowing hot and cold because he felt like he was treading on eggshells.

But all he could focus on was the thumping of his heart inside his chest, and the sound of Brendan's gentle moans as he shuffled himself forwards and leaned behind him, expertly undoing Ste's trousers without breaking their kiss.

Ste lifted his hips to allow Brendan to push his trousers down, and as they fell to the floor he kicked them off, along with the one shoe he had managed to get on before Brendan had returned from the bathroom.

"We've gotta be quick," Ste warned in the short space between kisses, Brendan replying just with a grunt.

"I mean it," Ste replied, more than a little concerned that he was going to be left with a massive hard on for the rest of the day when they ran out of time.

Brendan pulled away and smiled at him.

"Well, it'll be something new for us, won't it," he teased, peeling himself away from the boy and reaching up to his bedside table, taking out the lube and condoms he'd purchased the previous day.

He returned his gaze to the boy, how he lay there, shamelessly naked – not like he had anything to be ashamed of. He truly was the most beautiful thing Brendan had ever seen.

"Stop staring at me and fuck me, will you," Ste pleaded impatiently.

Brendan laughed at that, before coating his fingers in lube and letting them travel down the length of Ste's skinny body.

"You want these?" he teased, taking in the pleading expression on his face and loving every moment of it.

"Please, Brendan," he pleaded, because he knew it was what Brendan wanted to hear. He loved to watch how the older man's expression darkened every time he begged for him.

"Good boy," Brendan encouraged, making sure Steven knew exactly how much he loved to hear him pleading.

"Fuck me, Brendan," Ste continued, his own gaze darkening now as he yearned for him, his hole twitching with anticipation, his cock so hard and so ready for Brendan's touch. "Please," he begged.

Brendan couldn't hold off.

He knew they had little time, and he knew it was going to be quick, and it was going to be rough, and it was going to be passionate, and it was going to be incredible.

He slipped his hands between the boy's legs, finding his hole and pushing one finger in, out, in, quickly; twisting to find that spot that made Steven cry out his name. He smiled, watching as the boy broke apart before him, a rambling mess of moans and begging words and prayers to a God he didn't even believe in. All at the mercy of Brendan's touch.

"You want more?" Brendan asked, and he pushed in another finger as the boy nodded, looking as if he was unable to get the words out.

As much as Brendan wanted to make him beg for it, his eye caught sight of the clock and he knew they were running out of time.

"Ye ready for me?" he asked, and he knew it came out desperate, and he meant it that way.

"So ready," Ste breathed out as he looked up into Brendan's eyes.

"Might hurt," Brendan warned, because although he was desperate, and although he knew not much would stop him from what he was about to do, and although he knew that Steven was begging him for it – he was aware he hadn't prepared him much, and he knew the boy was new to all of it.

"Just fuck me," Ste begged, and it was all that Brendan needed.

He rolled on the condom, and he was about to turn Steven over but he stopped himself – he knew he would come quicker if he could look into the boy's eyes as he did this – so he settled in between his legs, and flung his head back in pure ecstasy as he lined his cock up with his hole, and pushed himself home.

Steven brought his legs up, wrapping them around his waist, and pushing up against Brendan, trying to match him thrust for thrust.

"Gotta be quick, that ok?" Brendan asked breathlessly. He glanced over at the clock and realised just how pushed for time they were.

"Yes, Bren," Ste confirmed, and it was wanton and desperate, as if he needed to take it just as quickly as Brendan could give it to him. "Fuck me harder," he begged.

"Jesus," Brendan called out, increasing his pace as he thrust into him, aware that it must have been hurting the lad more than ever before, but impressed all the same that he wanted it, wanted the sweet pain as much as he did the pleasure.

He hadn't had him for long, but he'd clearly taught him well already.

He reached between them, grasping onto Steven's cock as it lay between them, and stripped it raw, matching the rhythm of his hips as they thrust into him, and he was looking straight into Steven's eyes – couldn't tear himself away – and he could almost sense everything the boy was feeling, every emotion he was going through in the build up to his orgasm.

It tore out of him seconds later, the white hot liquid throbbing out of him, and Brendan felt every pulse of it around his cock as he was buried inside of Ste, milking his own orgasm from him and seconds later he was filling latex, dropping his arms and falling into the boy, holding him close in his arms and biting his tongue to stop himself from saying something he couldn't take back.

He knew they didn't have long – knew they'd have to move and get dressed before he was fully over the intensity of his orgasm – but he lay there for as long as he could get away with it, savouring every second of the two of them joined together in the unholiest of unions.

He realised he didn't ever want to leave that moment.

-s-

Ste couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he walked down the corridor minutes later, checking the time on his phone and wincing when he read it was 11.10am. It was a good job the trip was running late.

He pushed the button for the lift, but the door pinged and opened almost instantly.

He blanched as the door opened, and he came face to face with Eileen, Declan and Paddy.

"Ste!" Eileen chirped, "How are ye?"

Ste swallowed the lump in his throat. This was _really fucking _close.

"Great, ta," he replied, trying his hardest to plaster a sincere smile on his face.

"What're ye doing up here, Ste?" Eileen asked as she instinctively reached her hand up to flatten a bit of his hair that he hadn't realised was standing on end. "You're never usually so far from Reception."

For a half second he panicked, thinking she was genuinely interrogating him, but the smile soon spread across her face, and he relaxed enough to answer her.

"Just came to...see...about a room," he faltered.

She didn't seem that interested anyway, her attention being diverted to Paddy as he ran ahead towards their room.

"I better go," Eileen rolled her eyes as she shouted out to Paddy.

She started to walk off but Ste had a fleeting moment of panic. He thought about how the room had looked when he'd walked out of it just a few minutes ago – condom wrappers in the bed, lube on the nightstand, Brendan's clothes strewn around the floor – and he realised he needed to stall her, give Brendan a fighting chance of getting it all tidied up.

"How was Egypt," he shouted down the corridor after her, "How was the cruise?"

Eileen stopped, to his relief, and turned to smile at him.

"Oh, it was great," she beamed, "The boys _loved _it, so fascinating all of it, isn't it. But so hot over there, isn't it too? And the cruise – more like a ferry really, isn't it – not the most luxurious. But yeah we had a great time, didn't we Declan?"

Declan nodded shyly as he turned towards his mother shyly.

She turned to walk away again, but Ste had more in his locker.

"What was your favourite part?" he asked Declan, using the kind of voice he would use for Leah or Lucas. "Did you like the pyramids?"

Declan looked up at Ste, and started deliberating about what was his favourite part. Ste wasn't listening – his face was expressing interest but his mind was completely elsewhere – but he was relieved that Brendan's son was more of a talker than his father. He seemed quite chatty for a good few minutes, and Ste was sure it would have given Brendan the time he needed to clear up the evidence of the two day sex festival.

"Great," Ste beamed with fake excitement when Declan finished talking. "I'll let you get off to your room, then," he smiled to Eileen, who thanked him before walking off.

He didn't head straight to the lift – he hung around in the corridor as if he was up to no good – and he waited until he could hear Brendan opening the door to them around the corner, and when he could hear no sign of panic in the Irishman's voice, and when he could hear no sign of anger in Eileen's, he walked off to the lift and made his way back to his flat.

-s-

He'd only been back in his own flat for three minutes before Anne came storming through the door as well.

She was on the phone, and she was arguing with someone about something – Ste worked out it was her sister and it sounded like she was planning on inviting herself over for a week of sunbathing, and Anne wasn't too impressed that she treated the place like a hotel whenever she visited and treated Anne like she was her personal servant.

Ste had met Maxine a few times, and thought the two of them were hilarious together, but he could see Anne's point – Maxine did have a tendency to sit around and do nothing but drink every cocktail that was placed in her hand.

Ste was always reluctant to remind Anne that she only does it because she can get away with it – because Anne lets her.

Ste smiled to himself as she bickered away on the phone, catching her eye and offering a small _Hi _that she returned. He pointed to the drink he was pouring himself from the fridge and she nodded, so he got another glass and poured her another.

She sauntered off to the bedroom with her overnight bag, and returned a couple of minutes later, minus the mobile phone.

"Please tell me that's got alcohol in it," she pleaded as she took the glass Ste offered her.

"Sorry, just plain lemonade," he grimaced. "Vodka in the cupboard though?"

She laughed back at him warmly.

"No, I'm only joking, it's not even midday and even I'm not that bad."

"Difficult cruise then?" Ste winced, all too aware that she'd only taken over as a favour for him.

"One couple of newlyweds who forgot their passport – you know, it's not like you usually need it to get into another country or anything – followed by three seasick kids who's parents didn't even care and thought it was up to _me_ to hold their hair back, one teddy bear overboard and forever lost to the Mediterranean sea – my fault according to the parents – riots in the centre of Cairo causing more traffic than the M25 in rush hour, and to top in all off, Eileen fricking Brady breathing down my neck and asking me questions every chance she got, still convinced I've been having it off with her husband when I'm all too well aware he's back here, with you, doing just what she's accusing me of, and that now my sofa probably isn't safe to sit on."

Ste couldn't help but laugh. She was hilarious when she was riled up like this. He took the vodka bottle out of the cupboard and held it up to her.

"You sure you don't need some," he teased.

She threw a cushion at him from the sofa next to where she was standing.

"Don't tempt me," she smiled back at him, and relaxed down onto one of the breakfast bar stools. "How have you been, anyway?"

She meant it generally, but Ste flushed involuntarily with the memories of how he'd been made to feel over the past two days – and who it was that had made him feel that way.

Anne made an over exaggerated expression of shock on her face.

"You dirty dog," Anne teased with a knowing smile.

"What?" Ste protested his innocence, but he couldn't stop the all-knowing smile from covering his face as he took a seat opposite Anne at the breakfast bar.

"I can see it in your eyes," Anne accused him, staring at him more now that he was sat closer. "You've had a right seeing to since I've been away!"

"Oh my god, Anne!" Ste cried out in shock.

"Don't lie to me, Steven," Anne warned playfully, leaning in and sniffing the air around him. "I can almost smell it on you."

Ste blushed, but retorted straight away, trying to give as good as he got.

"I haven't showered yet, Anne, so you probably still can."

"Oh my god Ste!" she covered her face with her hands in shock. "I didn't need to know that!"

Ste laughed as she grimaced with the thought in her mind. Ste realised he'd missed her more than he thought – it seemed like ages since he'd been able to joke with her like this, especially since Danny showed up on the scene.

"So, tell me, did you...y'know?" she asked tentatively, flicker of mischief in her eye.

"Maybe," Ste replied, but confirmed her suspicions with a wink and a smirk.

"And?" she pushed further.

"And, it's none of your business, Ms Minniver," Ste replied haughtily.

She let out a frustrated growl and laughed at the way he looked so pleased with himself.

"Seriously though," she asked soon after, "How was it? He treat you right any everything?"

Ste smiled at the way she was actually concerned for his welfare, nodding in response to her question as he coyly took a sip of his drink.

"He use protection?" she asked evenly, as if she was asking if he took sugar in his tea.

"Anne, seriously!" Ste warned her in good humour. "I am not having this conversation with you."

"Ste, I'm only asking because I care," she replied with an ounce of sincerity.

"You just want the gossip," Ste assumed with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, and I want the gossip," she confirmed with a wink and a smile, and they both laughed in that easy way that they always did.

Ste sighed as his laughter subsided, and realised he was going to have to give her something to go off, if only to shut her up and move her off that topic.

"Well, it happened, and he did everything properly, and we were safe, and it was incredible," he smirked, "And so it happened some more. And then some more -"

"Oh my god, seriously?" Anne countered with excitement. "How many times?"

"Errrm, I don't actually know," Ste replied coyly, "A few times now."

"And look at you, you're gagging for more," she teased.

"Naturally," Ste answered back in a heartbeat.

He noticed her expression change quickly, though, and he knew she was about to burst his bubble.

"You need to be careful though, Ste," she started, and Ste rolled his eyes straightaway. "He's got a wife, and two kids, and they're due to leave in a few days -"

"I know, Anne," Ste protested, even though he was all to well aware of how much he was trying to block all three of those facts from his mind.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," she added calmly.

"I know," he replied, and then paused for a second as he thought about how he was going to tell her about the Danny Houston saga. She eyed him knowingly from where she sat, and he slumped against the breakfast bar as he realised she'd cottoned on to him.

"There's something else?" she asked, and Ste knew he had no choice but to tell her.

"Yeah," he confirmed. They sat in silence for a few moments as Ste worked out exactly how he was going to tell her everything. "Well," he started after taking a deep breath, "You know I thought it was Danny Houston behind me getting beaten up the other day?"

"Yeah, 'course I remember," she confirmed, eyeing the faint markings that still adorned his face.

"Turns out it was him, like I thought. I was standing in the lobby the other day and he walked in, spotted me straight away. Turns out he hadn't been after me but he'd seen me and thought he should send me a message to make sure I hadn't forgotten about our deal -"

"Bastard," Anne chipped in.

"I know, right," Ste continued, his pace quickening as he explained everything to Anne. "Anyway, he starts saying it's good how I'm there because he's over here to get revenge on someone that robbed from him, and he wants me to help track him down -"

"Jesus, I was only gone two days -"

"That ain't even it, Anne. Turns out it's the one and only Brendan Brady who he's after."

"No way," Anne looked genuinely shocked. "What has he done to Brendan? Is he ok?"

"He ain't done anything yet – Brendan bolted as soon as he saw Danny, and Danny didn't even know he was staying here for definite until I told him -"

"You grassed on Brendan?" Anne asked, half shocked, half concerned.

"Only cause he told me to – don't worry, I ain't that stupid," Ste told her, trying not to take to heart that she thought he would be. "I told Bren everything, and he told me to tell Danny he's staying here -"

"Why?"

"Well, that's it. Danny's thinks I'm on the inside now – thinks I'm gonna bring Brendan to some spot outside of town today, and its all a trap for Brendan, but they don't know that Brendan's in on it -"

"Oh my god," Anne interrupted him as she held up her hands to stop Ste in his tracks. "This is all too much."

"Nah, its ok," Ste tried to convince her. "It's fine 'cause Brendan's got it all sorted. He's made some phone calls -"

"Ste, you need to be careful," she implored him.

"Anne, its fine, Brendan's got it all under control," Ste tried to convince her. He genuinely felt like he was safe as long as Brendan was standing beside him.

"Danny's a dangerous man," she hastened to remind him.

"Yeah, and so's Brendan," Ste insisted back, as if it was a good thing.

"Oh and that's supposed to make me feel better," Anne asked, incredulous.

Ste dropped his head in realisation that he wasn't helping his own argument with a line like that.

"I just mean, he can hold his own," he explained, calmly now. "And he ain't gonna let anything happen to me, I'm sure of it."

"How are you sure though?" Anne asked, and Ste could detect the genuine concern in her voice.

"I just am," Ste admitted. "With Brendan it's...it's different. I can tell, it means something. I can tell he cares. He wants to protect me, and I know that he will."

Anne stared at him dead for a few short moments, before shaking her head and returning her gaze to the floor.

"I can't believe it," she muttered under her breath.

"What?" Ste questioned, almost offended that she would doubt what he'd told her.

She took a moment to look him in the eye again.

"You're in love with him."

Her words took the wind right out of his sails. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to respond to her – as he tried to force the denial out of himself. But he couldn't say the words.

He hadn't let himself consider it, until she mentioned it. The thought had run through his mind involuntarily, but he'd pushed it away before he could take too long to obsess over it. Now that it was out there, though – now that his best friend had called him out on it – was there any point in even denying it? He knew he felt it – deep down. He knew it.

He was in love with him.

So why deny it any longer?

"So what if I am?"

The admission had left his lips before he'd had a real chance to think it over, but even as he said it he felt a huge weight leave his shoulders.

There wasn't any point denying it any longer – he was lying to himself if he tried to.

Anne stared back at him in shock, blinking rapidly as if she could erase this scene from her mind.

"That's ridiculous," she breathed out eventually.

"Why?" Ste answered back, bitterness lacing his tone. How dare she judge him for feeling something for Brendan. She had no idea what their relationship was like – she had no clue what the two of them shared, what it felt like when it was the two of them alone together. How could she possibly pass comment when she was so clueless. "Why is it so ridiculous, huh? I love him, so what? Why is that so wrong -"

"Because you've only known him just over a week," she shouted back at him, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and concern. "Because he's married. Because he has a family. Because he's in the closet. Because he'll never come out of said closet -"

"He might!" Ste insisted, but even in his stubborn state of mind he knew it was asking a lot.

Anne laughed at the absurdity of what she was hearing.

"Ste, think about it," she insisted, "He's Brendan Brady. He's a gangster. He's made a name for himself – even you'd heard of him before you'd even met him. He's got a reputation to uphold. There's no way he's gonna jeopardise that for someone like – for anyone -"

"For someone like me, you mean?" Ste cried back at her, picking up on the slip of the tongue that she'd tried to glaze over.

"I don't mean it like that, Ste – but yeah, maybe I do," she answered back at him. "He ain't gonna give it all up for some guy he met on holiday! So what if you've slept together a few times when his wife wasn't looking, I bet it's not like you're the first lad he's been with. What makes you so special, Ste?"

"Don't be such a bitch, Anne," Ste warned her. He couldn't deny what she was saying made sense to the rational side of him – it was exactly why he hadn't let himself admit it until now – but he wanted to desperately for things to be different, for it not to be true.

She took a deep breath and let the mood in the room settle for a moment. She had suspected Ste was in deep, but she had no idea he was in _this_ deep. She didn't want to hurt him – she knew she was being harsh – but she also knew she needed to be cruel to be kind.

Brendan wasn't the kind of guy to give everything up, even if he did feel the same way about Ste. There was too much at stake for him, and all she wanted to do was make him realise that.

"I don't want you to get hurt, that's all Ste," she explained, her tone calm now. She hated arguing with him, but she was only telling him what she knew he needed to hear.

"I know, Anne," Ste admitted, and the pause had let him calm down too. "But its not – you don't know what its like when we're together. He's different, when its just me and him. I think he feels it too."

Anne dropped her gaze. She knew that even if Brendan did feel the same way, there was still just as high a chance that he would break Ste's heart all the same.

"Seriously, Anne, I love him," Ste continued, each word breaking her heart more and more. "I can't see straight when I'm with him, Anne. I cant see anything when I'm not. He takes my breath away – he makes my heart race and makes my body feel things I've never known before. I love him, Anne, I really do."

Anne took a moment for his words to settle in. She knew he was in trouble.

"It's been a week," she whispered eventually, as if it should be the final word in the matter.

"I know!" Ste laughed with the realisation. "I know it's ridiculous! But I'm telling you, Anne, I love him. And I think he feels it too."

Anne shook her head. She was really starting to fear for her best friends welfare.

"How can you be sure he feels it too?" she asked him after a while.

Ste sighed with the weight of what he was about to say – realising he was admitting it to himself at the same time as the words were falling from his mouth.

"I don't know. Just, the way he looks at me sometimes. Like I matter. Like I've caught him in the middle of some trail of thought and he can't help but smile at me. And, he'll do anything to protect me, like he really cares. And sometimes I catch his eye, and it just feels like it's the two of us, like we're in on some secret that no-one else knows about. Like it's just the two of us, and nobody else in the world even matters."

Anne sighed as she took Ste's hand in hers. She squeezed it tightly and smiled when he looked up at her.

"Ste, I get it, I do," she explained to him gently. "I just – I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"Who says I will?" he answered her defensively.

"Think about it Ste," she implored. "Think about what he's got to do to make sure he doesn't hurt you. He's gotta leave his wife – leave his kids. Let them go back to another country and he stays here with you? And does what? Tells all his little gangster friends that he's out of the game because he's shacking up with some lad he met on holiday. Really?"

She watched Ste as he listened to her intently – his smart comebacks silenced by the weight of her words.

"People like Brendan," she continued, "They don't just have lives that they can walk away from. There's always something coming after him, or someone. Look at Danny for gods sake! They've took it so far that they don't get to make those live-for-the-moment decisions – they're always watching their backs. Ste, you need to be realistic. I want you to be happy, I really do, and if he makes you happy then I can look over the fact that his wife is here and you're sneaking around. But I can't let you fall for him. I can't let you, because I don't want to watch you in pain when he leaves, and I don't want to have to be the one to pick up the pieces. Because I'm telling you, if you're hoping for some grand romantic gesture, then don't - things like that just don't happen with people like Brendan Brady."

Ste remained silent in the face of her words.

How was he even meant to respond to that?

Her words were hurtful, sure – even if they were meant with the best of intentions – but what hurt the most was how true they were. He knew it deep down; he knew he would never have Brendan properly. He knew it was just a fling, and he knew the Irishman would never give up everything he had just for Ste. He knew it was all just a fantasy.

"I wish it was different for you, babe, I really do. But you need to face facts -"

"Alright, I get it," Ste interrupted her, exasperated. He couldn't listen to any more of her home truths. "I get your point. I know what you're saying. I need to let him go."

Anne nodded at him gently.

"Your heart needs to, at least," she continued. "Even if your body still wants to make use of him whilst he's still here, you still need to distance yourself, emotionally."

"I know," Ste replied, and it was so quiet – so reluctant – that it was barely audible. He knew in a realistic world, it was all fantasy. Him and Brendan – it just wouldn't work in reality, would it?

He cast his gaze to the ground as he felt Anne get up and move around to hug him. She wrapped her arms around and held him tighter than she had needed to in a long while. He felt tears prickle the back of his eyes, but he vowed not to let himself shed any over Brendan. He wouldn't be that weak.

He resolved that once they had met with Danny – once they had put paid to that threat on Brendan's life – then things were going to change. He could be the minx that Brendan wanted him to be in the bedroom, but he needed to stop himself from falling for the Irishman any further.

He knew that if he fell much further he would be in way too deep.

His silent thoughts were interrupted by his message tone going, and he looked down at his phone to see it was Brendan who had text him.

He almost showed it to Anne, to prove that Brendan was thinking about him, that he did care. But he read the text first.

_Told Eileen I've booked an excursion to the old town to get me out of here later on. Meet in the lobby at 1.30pm._

Ste was silently thankful he hadn't showed Anne. It was just so cold – no feeling in there, no emotion. He started to doubt whether it was actually all in his head. It was so clinical.

Not even a kiss at the end.

He shrugged it off – he didn't want to think about it right now. He could feel his heart breaking, and he wasn't sure he could handle that on top of what they had to do this afternoon.

He excused himself and headed through to the bathroom to shower, reluctantly rinsing away the evidence of his and Brendan's time together, then text Brendan back a simple _OK _before dressing and going back to Anne in the sitting room.

"You ok?" she asked, and Ste could read the guilt in her expression. He was thankful to have a friend like her – one who wasn't afraid to speak her mind, and who Ste knew really did have his best interests at heart – but he still found it bitter to swallow the dose of reality she had handed to him moments earlier.

"Fine," he replied, offering her a smile to ease her conscience. "I'm gonna phone the kids," he explained to her, and he noted the alarm in her expression.

He had set times when he called them – when he knew Doug wouldn't be at Amy's, and Amy would be relaxed, and there would be less of a threat of an argument breaking out between them. This wasn't one of those agreed times, and Ste knew that Anne picked up on that by her raised eyebrows.

"Just, with this afternoon," Ste explained, "Just in case anything happens – not that it's going to – but just in case."

He saw from Anne's furrowed brows that she was worried for him, but she nodded and left the room anyway.

He dialled the familiar number – the only one he'd ever remembered off by heart – and heard the call connect after a few rings.

"Hello."

It was Doug's voice at the end of the line. He was blind-sighted for a moment, didn't know how to act.

"Doug, it's Ste. I wondered if Leah and Lucas were about," he asked hopefully.

There was silence for a few minutes, and Ste took the phone away from his ear to check the call was still going, and it was. He heard a sharp breath down the phone.

"It's not really a good time," Doug started, but Ste didn't have time for his power games.

"Look, Doug, this is really important, ok. I need to speak to my kids -"

"Ok, buddy, calm down," Doug soothed, patronising as ever, his words having the opposite effect on Ste, but he bit his tongue. "I'll go get them."

Doug was gone for what seemed like hours.

When he heard another voice down the line, it wasn't the kids – it was Amy.

"Ste, what's up?" she asked, and it sounded like genuine concern.

Ste sighed. He didn't want an argument about this – he just wanted to make sure his kids knew that he loved them. Just in case.

"Nothing, Ames," he replied, trying to make the lie sound as effortless as he could. "I've just had a bad morning, could really do with speaking to them."

"Can't you call back later," she suggested.

"No! I can't!" he snapped. He regretted it straight away.

"Ste, if you've done something stupid -"

"I haven't, I swear," he interrupted her.

Damn Amy and her weird ability to read so much into Ste's every word.

"I just really need to hear their voices," he told her, pleading to her softer side.

There was a pause as she considered it.

"Doug's parents are here," she admitted quietly, and Ste understood then. It didn't make too much of a great impression on the potential in-laws when your ex and the father of your kids rings up half way through lunch demanding to speak to them.

"Sorry Ames," Ste offered her, "But I really need to speak to them."

She gave in eventually, and Ste could hear her in the distance explaining to the kids that Daddy was on the phone. He heard them jumping up with excitement, and he felt a rush of warmth through his heart to know that they still loved him enough to get so excited. It was a miracle that they even remembered who he was.

He spoke to Leah first, hearing all about her ballet class, and the new friends she had made at school, and the new dress that Daddy Doug had bought her. It made his skin crawl to hear her call him that, but he didn't tell her not to – he knew it would only confuse her. He told her that he loved her, and then he waited until she said it back to him, and he made sure she told him that she knew how much her Daddy loved her, no matter what.

When he spoke to Lucas, he made sure he did exactly the same once he'd finished talking to him. He had always been a quiet one on the phone – had always been quiet full stop – so it made Ste smile when Lucas offered one word answers to his questions about his toys, and it made his smile widen when his son said _I love you Daddy _without him even asking him to say it.

His eyes had filled when he finished talking to them, and when he asked Leah to pass the phone back to their Mommy, he felt an undeniable sadness wash over him. He knew he was being melodramatic – Brendan wasn't going to let anything happen to him, was he? But he couldn't help the feeling that it could be the last time he ever spoke to his kids.

He suddenly felt uneasy about the afternoon ahead.

He said goodbye to Amy, telling her that he loved her too, because he did; whatever had happened between them, she was still the mother of his kids. She hadn't known how to react, so she said thank you and hung up the phone.

It left him feeling empty.

He went to get ready, and paced around the room until it was time to leave to go and meet Brendan. He hugged Anne before he left, and told her he would be careful, and promised to text as soon as Brendan had sorted everything.

He took a final glance around the flat before he left for the hotel, as if he wasn't sure he would ever see it again.

-s-

It had been difficult to explain to Eileen exactly why he'd decided to book himself onto an excursion on his own, especially when he had been so adamant that he would rather be seen dead than on a coach trip with her and the kids, but he convinced her eventually that the two days sat around the pool on his own had driven him insane. He told her he'd tried to get booked onto the excursion yesterday, when he was on his own all day, but that they'd been full and he hadn't wanted to seem rude so he'd accepted the lad's offer to get him booked onto the trip for that afternoon.

She resigned herself to it after a while, and wished him on his way whilst she packed up hers and the boys bag for the beach.

He couldn't tell her that the reason for him having to flee from the UK had touched down in Cyprus and found out where they were. He couldn't tell her how much her life was in danger.

He did hug her before they left for the beach, though – Eileen and the boys – and he told them all that he had missed them.

1.30pm arrived and he made his way down to reception to meet with Steven. He was nervous – more so than he would ever admit – and he seriously wondered whether he had took it too far this time. Danny Houston was serious – he meant serious business – and he was a bad man to be on the wrong side of. Everyone knew that.

He toyed with the idea of not showing up. It would be so easy to just leave; to flee again. He would be leaving Steven up shit creek without a paddle, though – but should he really care so much about that?

He knew deep down he cared more than he dared admit. If he didn't, he wouldn't even be contemplating meeting with Danny right now.

He knew though that Danny Houston was something he was never going to escape. It was one thing leaving the country with the hope that Danny wouldn't know it was him that stole from him, or that he wouldn't know where to look to follow him; but now he was on his trail, it would be a never ending life on the run, and he wasn't prepared to put his family through that.

He knew he had to face up to Danny, and he had to end him.

He realised there might only be one of them to walk away from this, and he hoped with the fact that he was aware of Danny's little plan, it would be him.

He couldn't be too sure though.

He spotted Ste in the lobby and strolled up to him purposefully.

"You ready?" he asked, and he tried to stop himself from noticing how fucking scared he looked, underneath his façade, because more than anything it made him want to hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Even if he knew he couldn't promise that.

"As I'll ever be," Ste replied, and smiled at him, and Brendan was all too well aware that Ste was putting a brave face on it. He didn't mention anything though, because he knew how sick it would have made him feel if he thought anybody could see through the mask that he was wearing in that moment.

They walked out the hotel together, and made their way up the main street towards the old ruin where Danny was due to meet them. It was a good walk, and they spent most of it in silence.

A short way from the hotel, Brendan turned to look at Ste and noticed how his expression was rooted to the ground. He knew he was feeling the pressure – hell, even Brendan was starting to feel it with Danny waiting for them down the road – and he couldn't help his desire to help the boy.

"It'll be ok, y'know," he told him, and smiled when Steven looked up at him hopefully. He wasn't sure of his own words, but he wanted to believe them, if that helped at all.

"How do you know?" Ste asked honestly. "How can you be so sure?"

"I won't let anything happy to ye, Steven. I promise ye."

Ste let his expression fall back to the ground.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked again after a moment of silence.

"Because I won't let it happen," he promised.

Steven's wall of silence told him he wasn't convinced.

"Look, Danny doesn't know we know each other. He's just gonna expect you to leave me with him and he'll let you go. I've called some guys I know and they've got contacts over here, and they'll be watching. If they take me anywhere, they'll follow me -"

"What if they...y'know, before you can hurt them?" Ste interrupted, because he didn't care so much about Brendan's plan – he cared whether he was going to make it out of there alive.

"I know Danny," Brendan explained coarsely. "He ain't gonna do anything quick and sudden. He's gonna wanna make me suffer, Steven, he ain't got any plans to make it quick and painless, I can tell ye that -"

"Bren, please," Ste interrupted him, and when Brendan looked in his direction his stomach flipped with the depth of concern etched into the boy's face. "Don't, I can't bear to think about it," he continued.

"Sorry," Brendan said after a short while. He realised he'd done nothing to dampen the boy's nerves by talking about how Danny was going to torture an apology out of him.

A few minutes later they reached the old ruin Ste was sure Danny was referring to in his text. They both took a moment to check around them, and realised they were alone – Brendan noticing they were 5 minutes early when he checked his watch.

"We're early," he confirmed when he saw Steven's fearful expression.

"Brendan, I don't wanna do this," he let out.

Brendan wished he hadn't said it.

"Steven -"

"Let's just leave, yeah? We can go back to the hotel, get your stuff, get Eileen, get the kids, and I'll get my stuff and we can just skip town -"

"He'll still find us, Steven -"

"He might not -"

"He will, I promise ye that."

Ste dropped his face into his hands, and Brendan flinched when he thought he heard a car engine in the distance. He turned but saw the area around them clear.

Ste looked a mess, and he knew they were putting themselves in danger by being so emotional.

"Ye gotta pull yourself together, kid -"

"Don't do that!" Ste cried at him, forcing Brendan to take another glance around to make sure they weren't being watched. "Don't treat me like a kid – don't _call_ me kid!"

"Sorry, sorry," Brendan tried, reaching out to him and grabbing him by the arms, "But ye gotta remember the story Steven – you ain't meant to know who I am – you're meant to be in control of this when Danny gets here. He's gonna catch on to us straight away if he sees me trying to calm you down like this. Ye gotta pull yourself together or you're only putting yourself in danger, Steven."

Ste sniffed away the threat of tears as he listened to Brendan, aware that he was talking complete and total sense. If Danny walked in on the two of them in that moment, he'd know straight away what was happening, and he was sure Danny wouldn't let him get away with it.

"Ok," Ste admitted after wiping the threat of tears from his eyes, breathing in hard and straightening himself up. "Ok, yeah. I get it," he confirmed.

"Good," Brendan nodded to him and took his hands away from the grip they'd had against Steven's forearms.

"So, I started chatting to you at the hotel bar, and you asked about somewhere proper ancient you could bring your kids that was free of tourists, and I said I'd bring you up here to show you. That's the story, yeah?"

"Yes, Steven," Brendan confirmed what they'd discussed the previous night, post-coitus.

"And we only met yesterday," Ste added.

"Yes, Steven."

"And I'm not meant to care if you live or die."

Brendan paused. They hadn't agreed that explicitly, but Brendan nodded as he looked to the ground. He felt a rush of heat through him at the suggestion that Steven _did _care if he lived or died, but he extinguished it with the reminder that in this situation, where they were right in that moment, he needed to not care.

He needed to not care at all.

"Well, well, well," Brendan heard over his shoulder.

He snapped his head up, recognising that Cockney accent anywhere. He put his gameface on – he'd need to act this one out if he was going to keep Steven safe; if he was going to convince Danny that Steven was no-one to him.

Brendan spun round to face him, plastering a shocked expression on his face.

"What the fuck?" he asked, as he turned to look at Steven, who cowered away from him instinctively.

"Long time no see, Brendan," Danny slurred. "You didn't think you could hide from me forever, now, did you?"


	15. Chapter 15

_**Once again thanks for your reviews :) Special thanks to the guest reviewers who I haven't been able to thank personally.**_

_**Sorry to those of you who I told would get this update at the weekend – I got called into work so had to delay. Better late than never!**_

_**I know I promised a storm. This might be more of a storm in a teacup. I don't know. Maybe it's just because I've written it myself so I know what happens, but it's possibly not as dramatic as I made out.**_

_**Hope you enjoy it anyway :) xx**_

Day Eleven Part Two

"Long time no see, Brendan," Danny slurred. "You didn't think you could hide from me forever, now, did you?"

Brendan's heart plummeted in his chest. He stared into Danny's eyes, and all he saw was venom – cold, revengeful venom – and for the first time in a long time, he doubted his ability to get out of this one alive.

He glanced around him – looking for his back-up – but it hadn't arrived. Yet. He was stuck.

He heard a faint whimper escape Steven's lips behind him, and he noticed Danny's eyes glance from him to the boy. A slight frown broke out over Danny's face as he watched the lad, and Brendan was all too aware that Danny might be on to them.

He needed to do something – needed to act out to keep Steven safe – needed to grab Danny's attention to take the heat off his boy.

He let his mouth form into an expression of shock as he spun around to face Steven.

"You fucker," he sneered at him, and he winced as the boy's face creased into a look of hurt.

_Come on, Steven, _he thought to himself, _You have to know this is an act._

"You fucking tricked me," he spat at him, reaching out and grabbing his t-shirt, balling his fists and getting his face right up close to Steven's. He could almost taste the sweetness of Steven's kisses from this close, and he wished he was giving in to them rather than doing this instead.

"I didn't...I don't...Please, Brendan..." Ste whimpered, and Brendan hoped he was just a brilliant actor, because he was doing a great job at looking scared of Brendan right now. He thought he'd made it clear – they needed Danny to think they meant nothing to one another, and as much as he knew it _shouldn't _be difficult for him to pretend, it was killing him to see the hurt on Steven's face.

He would need to make this up to him big time when they were next alone together.

"You don't know what you've done, kid," he sneered, getting right up close into Steven's face, noses almost touching; could feel his hot, stuttering breath against his lips. "How much is he paying ye, huh? 'Cause I bet it ain't nearly enough to make up for what I'm gonna do to ye, ye little fucker."

"I'm..." Ste tried to reply, but the words caught in his throat.

"Don't fucking beg," Brendan curled his lip as he threatened the boy, "It won't help ye -"

Brendan stopped talking. He heard something behind him, and it pulled him out of his bad-man routine.

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

Danny was slow-clapping him.

He turned towards him, fists relaxing their hold on Steven's t-shirt, and saw the sinister smile playing over Danny's lips.

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

He continued, stopping only when he knew he had Brendan and Ste's full attention.

"Very good, Brendan," Danny called out to him, smiling, taking a few steps forward to close the gap so he didn't need to shout to be heard. "Very convincing."

"What you saying, Danny?" Brendan asked him, steely expression holding strong despite the panic that was coursing through his veins.

Danny looked around to the group of three men who flanked him, his back-up, smiling at them with venom in his eyes.

"A good performance, don't you agree lads," he asked them. None of them responded – Brendan suspected they were forced to keep quiet in Danny's company - but the message was clear. Danny wasn't buying it.

"What -" Brendan started, but Danny interrupted him.

"You can drop the act, Brendan," Danny said as he sauntered forwards a little more, closing the last few feet of space between himself and Brendan. He stopped right in front of him, standing nose to nose with the Irishman.

"I don't know -"

"I said you can drop it, Brendan," Danny interrupted as Brendan desperately clung onto the hope that Danny hadn't found them out. "You think I'm stupid or something? You think the pair of you," he emphasised his point by waving a finger between Brendan and Ste, "You think you could fool me, huh?"

The twitch appeared involuntarily in Brendan's cheek, just under his left eye, and he gritted his teeth as he held Danny's gaze.

"I know all about your little secret_, _Brendan," Danny hissed.

"Enlighten me," Brendan scoured back at him, feigning confusion in his expression.

Danny laughed in his face, glancing across at Ste to gauge his reaction – he saw his eyes wide and disbelieving, and frowned at the naivety of the lad.

"You see Brendan," Danny explained coldly, "You've got something that belongs to me, if I remember right. And I want you to tell me exactly where you've hidden those drugs that you stole from me."

"I don't know what you mean, Danny," Brendan lied.

"You know exactly what I mean, Brady," Danny sneered at him. "You're gonna tell me where they are, or let me tell you this – your new boyfriend, he's gonner 'ave it."

Brendan scowled back at him, desperately trying to hide the panic that was bubbling up inside of him.

"Oh, yeah," Danny continued in the same cold, callous tone. "See, when you wanna make someone do something, Brendan, you don't threaten them. You threaten what they care about. It's much more effective."

Danny paused for effect, taking pleasure in the wave of realisation that Brendan couldn't hide from his face, and smiling with it.

"And a little tip, Brendan. If you're trying to mug me off with your new girlfriend here, then you should really be careful where you decide to have your way with him – you never know who's watching from the back of the beach."

Ste swallowed as he realised what Danny was saying – realised that their plan had been foiled, and that Danny knew the two of them were together. He wasn't aware that the cry of anguish he heard had fallen from his own lips, but he could sense Danny and his men staring at him as his legs gave way beneath him and he fell to the floor, head in his hands.

He knew the consequences for stitching up men like Danny – he knew he should never have agreed to this – and he was all too well aware that he couldn't escape from Danny's clutches now.

Ste watched as Brendan tried to take advantage of the attention being on Ste and not himself, lashing out at Danny and clocking him square in the jaw, sending him flying backwards. It was reckless, and it was stupid – Danny had three heavies to back him up – but Ste understood than Brendan had to feel like he was doing something, at least. He needed to put up some kind of a fight, however ineffective.

Within a split second of Brendan's fist connecting with Danny's jaw, two of the men had rounded on Brendan, holding his arms back, restraining him until Danny had wiped the blood from his nose and straightened himself out.

"You'll regret that, Brady," Danny hissed, and Ste watched on as Danny flung a punch into his stomach, causing Brendan to double over in pain.

Danny stepped back and let the third of his body guards throw the final two punches – straight to the head – and Brendan's body slumped after the second, his head bowed in a state of unconsciousness.

The last thing Ste saw was Danny walking towards him, tutting at him, saying how he'd been a stupid kid, and holding a cloth against his mouth. He tried protesting, flinging his arms around, kicking out with his legs, but it was fruitless. He tried not to breath in the toxic fumes from the cloth that Danny had wedged against his face, but he had no choice, and he felt his body relaxing, his limbs no longer moving like he wanted them too. His eyes closing slowly – involuntarily – and everything went to black.

-s-

Brendan felt the sting of a rugged slap against the side of his face, bringing him back into consciousness. He opened his bleary eyes to see a man mountain stood before him – but he registered the face when his vision came into focus and realised it was a friendly kind of giant – not the type he'd been restrained and knocked unconscious by.

"When you said you needed my help Brady, I didn't think you'd want me as part of one of your little sex games."

Brendan grunted with discomfort as he tried to respond, wincing as he raised his eyebrows and felt the sting of a cut to his eyelid. He felt something wet against his lip, and his tongue darted out to confirm the metallic tang of blood on the side of his face.

He was sat down on the floor – legs outstretched before him – and he was leaning up against a stone pillar. He tried to move his hands to wipe the blood from his face, but realised they had been bound together and restrained behind the pillar.

"Want a hand with that, mate," the man offered, noticing Brendan's struggle behind his back, before taking out a pen knife and leaning down behind him, cutting the binds and freeing up his hands.

Brendan took a look at his surroundings as the rope was being cut – he was in the same place where himself and Steven had arranged to meet Danny – the old ruin just outside of town.

But there was no Steven.

He was alone – they'd taken the boy, and left him here for dead.

"Foxy, where've you been?" Brendan asked as Warren flipped his pen knife back together and put it back in his pocket.

"You only called me a few hours ago, Brady, I know I'm special but I ain't Superman. I had to fly in from Istanbul – was tying up a deal there." He crouched down to bring himself level with Brendan's eyeline. "What did I miss then?"

Brendan grimaced as he swallowed down, regretting it straightaway as the taste of blood radiated down his throat, and deciding to spit out the rest of the blood in his mouth rather than swallow again.

"Danny was here," he explained, and his voice was rasped and painful. "He knocked me out, must a' took the kid and left me here."

"He's got Declan?" Warren asked, voice pitched and panicked, assuming _the kid _Brendan referred to must have been the Irishman's son.

"Not Declan, Steven."

The admission out loud made his body jerk into life, and he jumped to his feet, ignoring the ache in his joints and the pain in his ribs, casting his gaze in every direction in the hope of seeing where they had gone too. There were no signs he could pick up on, and one look at his watch told him he'd been out cold for 15 minutes.

"Who's Steven?" Warren asked, letting his gaze follow the direction of Brendan's as if he was searching for an answer.

"Some kid," Brendan admitted weakly. "We gotta' find him, Foxy – you coming?"

"Sure, Brady, but I don't know what the hell -"

"I'll explain in the car," Brendan interrupted, slapping Warren on the back as he dashed past him and headed for Warren's hire car, the Mancunian trailing behind in his wake.

-s-

"Put your foot down, Foxy, we ain't going to a fucking fête," Brendan said as they made their way down from the ruin, drumming his fingers against the car door and jittering his leg up and down anxiously.

"Well it might help if you tell me where we _are _going, Brady?" Warren asked.

"Steven's flat," he explained, his tone short and sharp. "Left here."

Brendan directed Warren the short distance to the apartment complex opposite his hotel, explaining as much as he needed to in short snippets – how he'd been the one to pull that heist on Danny that Warren had undoubtedly heard of through the grapevine.

"You little fucker," Warren smirked in disbelief, slapping the steering wheel and laughing as he raised a smile out of Brendan.

"Not so fucking clever now though, is it?" Brendan reminded him, the smile dropping from his face.

"You gonna tell me who Steven is, then?" Warren asked coyly.

"Maybe one day," Brendan answered quietly, wondering if he would ever be able to open up to Warren about that side of his life.

They'd had a rocky start to their friendship – had pitted themselves against each other in a physical game of one-upmanship when they'd ended up dealing for the same guy many years ago. Neither of them had ever come out on top in any of their scuffles, and after enough blood had been spilt they'd called it a truce, and had fought their battles alongside instead of against each other since then.

He was one of the only remaining people Brendan knew he could trust and rely on – mainly because Warren had inexplicably won a tidy sum on the Euromillions two years ago and had since cut himself out of the game back in the UK – only leaving his villa in the Spanish hills when something on the continent really tickled his fancy.

He wasn't on Brendan's playing field anymore, and it cemented the trust in their friendship.

"Park up here, on the left," Brendan instructed him as they approached Steven's flat.

The car had barely stopped moving before Brendan jumped out, dashing into the building and taking the stairs two at a time. He reached the door to Steven's flat and started banging, relentlessly, until Anne opened up – affronted at the interruption to her afternoon.

"Is he here?" Brendan asked as he barged past her, surveying the room and heading for Ste's room.

"Brendan, no, please," Anne called after him, the colour draining from her face as she realised something had gone wrong; her tone a mixture of concern and resentment. "What have you done, Brendan?"

"I've done nothing, Anne," Brendan snapped back as he started rifling through Ste's room, desperately searching for clues as to where he could find Danny. He knew it was pointless – knew Steven wouldn't have anything to help him – but he didn't know where else to start looking.

"He said you'd look after him -"

"I tried, Anne – believe me I fucking tried – but it's kinda hard when you've been knocked unconscious -"

"Where is he?" Anne demanded, and when Brendan gave up the search through Steven's things and looked up to her, he saw the tears of concern in her eyes.

"I don't know, Anne," he admitted. "He was gone when I came round, and I haven't got a clue where to fucking find him."

Anne swallowed hard and followed Brendan as he walked out of the room, pacing the living room as he listened in to Warren's phone conversation.

"Anything, Foxy?" Brendan asked as he ended his call.

"He knows someone who might know where Danny's staying over here. He's gonna text me the details," Warren explained.

"Let's go," Brendan said without hesitation.

He found a feisty petite brunette blocking the doorway, and resisted the urge to use his strength to push past her. Steven was in danger, and he wasn't going to let Anne stand in his way of saving him, but he hadn't ever used his strength against a woman and he wasn't about to start.

"Anne, come on," he pleaded, "Steven's in danger -"

"Then I'm coming with you," Anne insisted.

"No way -"

"I ain't gonna sit around here twiddling my thumbs if he needs help, Brendan," Anne advised him curtly.

Brendan hit the palm of his hand with his fist out of frustration. He appreciated Anne wanting to help Steven, but he didn't want to bring anyone else into his fucked up issues with Danny Houston – he wasn't about to put another innocent life at risk.

"Hiya darling," Warren interrupted, sensing Brendan's anguish and making his way past the Irishman to bring himself in front of Anne. "Warren, pleased to meet you."

"This ain't fucking Take Me Out, Foxy," Brendan interrupted harshly, getting through the introductions quickly. "Warren, Anne; Anne, Warren, now let's get a fucking move on," he added, clearly irritated.

"Pleasure to meet you, Anne," Warren smiled sweetly.

"Likewise," Anne replied coyly. "Now can we go and find Steven?"

"Maybe you should stay here, sweetheart, in case he appears here," Warren cooed as he handed her a post-it note with his number on it. "If he comes back you let us know, and we'll keep you informed, yeah?"

Anne thought about it for a few moments before sighing and reluctantly nodding her acceptance, moving out of the doorway, feeling the shove of Brendan's shoulder as he barged past her, and shooting Warren a smile as he left.

"You better find him safe, ok?" she urged him as he slipped past her.

"I'll do my best," Warren promised as he walked out of the door.

Anne closed the door behind them and sunk to the floor, hugging her knees close to her chest and holding back the tears, praying that they would find Ste and bring him back safely.

-s-

They pulled up outside the basic chain hotel Warren's contact had told them Danny was staying in. Brendan rushed to the Reception desk, asking for Danny's room, and they made their way up to the second floor quickly.

They found Danny's room and started banging on the door repeatedly, to no avail. They could hear no signs of life inside, so Brendan took it upon himself to barge the door down. It took him a couple of attempts, but they were inside his room minutes later, Brendan frantically searching for anything close to a clue.

"What are we even looking for?" Warren asked as he rifled through a pile of papers on the dresser.

"Anything," Brendan answered him briskly. "Anything that could tell us where he's taken Steven. An address, a phone number, a map -"

He was cut off mid-sentence by the sound of his own phone ringing. He hurriedly checked the screen, but his hope deflated when he saw an unknown number appear where he had hoped to see Steven's.

"What?" he said sharply as he answered the phone.

The was a heavy pause down the line, followed by a low, devious, chuckle.

"Oh, I'd be a lot more polite if I were you, Brendan," the cockney voice on the other end of the line warned him. "If you ever want to see your boy alive again."

"Danny," Brendan growled down the line. "Danny, you hurt him and I swear to God, I will -"

"You'll kill me? Yeah sure, whatever Brendan. You'll have to catch me first," Danny taunted him down the other end of the line.

"Where the fuck is he, Danny?" Brendan begged.

"He's right here with me, Brendan. We're having a bit of a catch up, aren't we Steven?"

Brendan heard an unmistakable _Fuck You _fall from Steven's mouth in the background, and his shoulders visibly relaxed to know the boy was ok. He flinched when he heard a smack, followed by a cry of pain from the lad, and he bared his teeth as he gave Danny his warning.

"You touch one hair on his head, Danny, and I fucking swear. I will find you, Danny -"

"You still tied to that pillar, Brendan?" Danny interrupted him, and it sounded a lot like he was mocking him.

Big mistake.

"Some friendly fucking tourists freed me," Brendan lied. "Now tell me where the fuck you are."

He heard Danny cover the phone for a minute as he spoke to someone in the background – Brendan could only make out muffled words, nothing he could use – and swallowed down hard when he heard another smack followed by the lad crying out _BRENDAN _in the background.

"DANNY!" Brendan yelled out to get his attention, his patience wearing thinner than it had ever been before. "YOU TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK YOU ARE!" he shouted down the line to him.

He didn't care that Warren was staring at him like he'd sprouted an extra limb; he didn't care that his friend was starting to get really fucking curious as to who the hell Steven was to him; he didn't care about any of it.

He only cared about finding Steven, and bringing him back safe.

"Alright, Brady, keep your hair on," Danny laughed down the line with such an air of arrogance about him that Brendan thought he couldn't wait to beat that confidence out of him. "I've got a deal for you. You listening?"

"Yes, Danny, I'm listening," Brendan replied. He saw how Warren signalled for Brendan to put the call on speaker phone, and for a second he almost did – it was only when the thought of Danny saying something about him and Steven crossed his mind that he frowned at Warren to pretend he didn't know what he was asking.

"I'll text you an address. You get here – within the hour – alone – and you bring me the details of where you've hidden my shipment. If you ain't here in an hour's time, I'll kill him. If you don't come on your own, I'll kill him. If you don't tell me where you've left my drugs, I'll kill him. And once I've finished with him, I'll move on to that lovely wife of yours, and I'll tell her all about your dirty little secret, right before I kill her too. Comprende?"

Brendan breathed heavily down the line. He was panicking – he had no doubt that Danny would go through with it if Brendan messed up.

He also had no doubt that Danny wouldn't let him walk away from him once he'd given in to his demands.

He knew if he went there to save Steven – and he knew he had no choice but to go – only one of them would walk out of there alive.

"Sorry, Brendan," Danny slurred down the line. "Don't you speak Spanish? I said, do you understand?"

"I understand ye, Danny," Brendan confirmed in a heartbeat. "I got a demand of me own - you hurt him, and I'll fucking kill ye. Comprende?"

Danny audibly laughed down the line.

"Yeah, sure," Danny said, and the line went dead.

Brendan resisted the urge to throw his phone against the wall – realising just in time that he'd need that to get Danny's text telling him where Steven was – but he clutched it so tightly in his fist that the thing nearly folded in on itself.

"What's he saying?" Warren asked, reluctant to step any closer to Brendan when he could see the look of pure evil in his eyes.

He tilted his head to face Warren, and a sinister smile played out over his face.

"How do you fancy taking Danny Houston out?"

Warren raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"I've been waiting for an excuse to do that for years."

"Looks like I just found you one," Brendan smiled back at him just as his message tone went off. He looked down and saw the address sent from Danny's mobile. "Come on, let's go."

-s-

The address was just over forty minutes away according to Warren's TomTom – but with some heavy pressure from Brendan in the passenger seat they made it there in twenty five. Brendan spent the majority of the car journey anxiously watching the speedometer and telling Warren to put his foot down, filling him in on the details of his phone call with Danny whilst avoiding his friends questions about who the hell Steven was and why he was so important that the Irishman was risking his life for him.

"Just fucking drive," Brendan snapped when he'd had enough of the questions. "It ain't important to you who he is – just know that I need him alive, ok?"

"Why does it feel like you're hiding something from me?" Warren asked after a few moments, his tone sounding hurt that Brendan wasn't trusting him with this.

"Because I am," Brendan admitted quietly.

A few minutes later they pulled up outside an old abandoned industrial unit, in the middle of some rocky, sandy hills in the heart of rural Cyprus. The building was old and worn down – sheets of corrugated metal hanging precariously from the roof – and was large enough to cover at least half a football pitch.

Brendan spotted the two identical black BMW's parked alongside each other by the main door, about 100m in front of where Warren was crawling up the drive.

"They're here," Brendan let out, before trying to open the door.

He heard a click as Warren locked the doors on him.

His heart dropped to the floor as he cautiously glanced across at his friend.

"What the fuck, let me out Foxy," Brendan warned him, panic flashing through him as the idea of Warren's deception flashed through his mind.

Warren started laughing when he saw the colour drain from Brendan's face.

"Don't worry mate, I ain't turning on you," Warren reassured him through his laughs. "Your face, Jesus, you don't trust anyone do you?"

Brendan relaxed slightly. He'd jumped to the wrong conclusion – but he couldn't afford to make mistakes when Steven's life was at stake.

"I trust you, Foxy," Brendan assured him as he stared into his friend's eyes. "But I really need to get out of this fucking car."

Warren stopped laughing and relaxed as he parked up, concealing his car as best he could behind a dilapidated wooden shack.

"You can't go storming in without a plan, Brendan," Warren told him, and Brendan knew he had a point. "I knew you'd try and jump in there all guns blazing regardless of the consequences, but we need to set something up -"

"Talking of guns?" Brendan interrupted him.

"In the boot," Warren told him, "He gave you an hour, right?" he waited for Brendan to nod. "We've taken half that time, so we've got half an hour to case the joint before he's even expecting us."

Brendan continued nodding. It killed him to know that Steven was just the other side of that door, and that he was in danger, and that he couldn't just jump straight in there and save him. But Warren was making sense – they'd be much better off if they had some sort of plan put together. Even Brendan could understand that in his distressed state.

"He told me to come alone," Brendan said as he looked back at Warren.

"Good job I'm discreet then," Warren smiled back at him.

Brendan actually laughed at that. "Good one, Foxy."

The Mancunian was anything but discreet, and they both knew it. He was a force to be reckoned with.

They sat in the car for a short while trying to figure out the surrounding area, before unloading their guns – just one pistol each – and approaching the unit carefully. They walked the outside perimeter – noticing a small door at the back which wasn't padlocked, unlike the rest. It looked like it led into an office-type area of the building – a long corridor leading down to another door at the other end. Brendan hesitantly tried his way inside, but Warren grabbed him – indicating silently that they should circle the whole building first.

They made their way further round, passing another door next to a large roller shutter – both of which were padlocked shut. Brendan stopped Warren with a hand on his arm, and put his finger to his lips as he listened in through a crack in the rusted iron.

He could hear voices on the other side – if he strained enough, he was sure he could make out Danny's accent. It was echoing around, and he figured they were in a large open space. He indicated to Warren to carry on walking, and they moved a little further along the wall, until the voices on the other side became clearer.

It was definitely Danny – they could hear him having a heated conversation with someone on the phone – and they walked along a little further until they reached another gap in the iron sheeting.

The gap was big enough to cast a ray of light into the warehouse, and Brendan stopped Warren just before he walked straight past it – he would have blocked the sun's rays from shining into the room if he had stepped in front of the gap, and there's no way that would have gone unnoticed.

Warren pulled a face of apology and swallowed down his relief that Brendan had stopped him in time.

They continued to listen in, and when Brendan found a small, round hole about a foot off the ground, he crouched down and looked inside.

He saw Danny, flanked by two – no, three – security guys. They were the same one's who'd knocked him unconscious earlier on. Bastards. They were standing side on to where Brendan was looking in, and he could see they weren't armed. There was a hint of relief inside of him, and he moved around slightly to see Steven just in front of them. He was sat in a chair – hands bound behind his back and legs bound to each of the chair legs – and there was blood pouring from a cut above his eye.

Brendan winced on seeing him – seeing how helpless he looked. He heard a faint whimper escape the boy's mouth and he pulled on the binds around his arms, and felt something unfamiliar lurching inside of him, urging him to fuck the plan and to just run inside and save the boy.

He suppressed down his urges, dropping his gaze and moving away from the hole, letting Warren swoop in and take a look inside.

When Warren had taken in all he needed to, they walked back the way they had come – back as far as the open door that Brendan had tried earlier.

They found their way inside, almost choking on the dust and debris that clocked up the air inside.

"What's the plan, then?" Brendan whispered – almost silently – and exaggerated every word to allow Warren to lip read.

Before Warren could respond, they heard a loud crack coming from inside the warehouse, followed by an ear-piercing scream that could only have been Steven.

"Brendan!" the boy's broken voice cried out, and all of Brendan's patience ebbed away as he started to run in the direction of the door at the end of the corridor. He needed to get to Steven – he needed to save him. He couldn't stand around making plans when the boy was taking hits on the other side of the door.

He couldn't let him hurt any more.

He was nearly at the door when he felt Warren pull him back, grabbing onto the back of his jacket and using all his strength to pull the Irishman back against the solidity of the wall, the plaster crumbling around them on the impact.

"Fucking stop it," Warren hissed into Brendan's face as he held him up against the wall, his forearm against Brendan's throat.

"He needs me," Brendan whispered back at him, flinching again when he heard another cry for help from inside the warehouse.

"You'll get us both killed," Warren whispered back, re-asserting his hold against Brendan when he flinched and tried to move again.

"Foxy, I need to -"

"I know you need to save him, Brady," Warren whispered into his face. "Listen, this is what we're gonna do, ok. We go in there – together – and we take out one bodyguard each. Then you go for the third one and I'll go for Danny. You get the lad of there and I'll meet you back at the car, ok?"

Brendan's eyes glanced around the darkness of the corridor they were hidden in, as if he could find the answers somewhere in the crumbling plaster of the walls. Warren made it sound so easy.

He knew it would be anything but.

And he knew there was a chance one of them wouldn't walk out of there alive.

"If I let you go are you gonna behave?" Warren asked with a smirk on his face.

Brendan responded by grabbing his arm and pulling it away from him, pushing his friend to the other side of the wall.

"Fuck off," he muttered as he straightened himself out.

"Look, they've got their backs to us. They don't know we're here. Catch them in the leg and they'll be down – they've got no weapons so they can't fight back. We'll be done and out of here in no time."

Brendan nodded in agreement, sighing heavily with the weight of realisation about what he was about to do.

He didn't know why he was so nervous – he'd been in this situation plenty of times. Occupational hazard, some might say. He's killed before – and he's had plenty of attempts on his own life.

But he'd never cared enough to get nervous before. Something was different this time.

He tried to ignore the voice in his head that told him Steven was the difference. Steven was here, and Steven was important, and he needed to get Steven and himself out of there alive so that he could devour the boy just one more time.

He had to pull himself together, and focus. He had to do it for Steven.

Warren edged forwards, towards the door at the end of the corridor. Danny's voice got louder as they approached, and it was clear they were on the other side of the door.

"We go in, and we shoot on three, ok?" Warren told him silently.

"On three," Brendan agreed.

Warren tried the door, and opened it slowly.

"Wait," Brendan stopped him with a hand on his arm. "On three, or after three?" he whispered.

"ON three," Warren confirmed.

"I think after three is better," Brendan argued back, and he didn't know why he was being so difficult. The nerves were getting the better of him.

"Ok, after three then," Warren agreed irritably.

"After three, ok," Brendan nodded, taking a deep breath and shaking the nerves out of his body. He took the safety catch off his gun as Warren pushed the door open to the large warehouse slowly.

Their view of the boy and Danny was blocked by a large, rusted, piece of machinery in front of them – about ten foot tall and equally as wide – and it looked to Brendan like some old farming equipment.

Not that he had any idea about farming, of course.

Warren indicated for Brendan to go left as he went right, and they each made their way slowly to the edge of the machinery.

He looked across at Warren and nodded, and he held up his fingers in the countdown.

_One_.

Brendan took another deep breath and placed a tighter grip on his gun.

_Two_.

He looked up to the sky and made a silent prayer for God to help them out.

_Three_.

He spun around and raised his gun before him, taking aim against the body guard stood ten metres in front of him.

He heard Warren's gun go off first, and he reacted within a split second, realising he'd missed his cue. He fired two bullets – running forwards as he did so – and heard the unmistakable sound of bullet hitting flesh after the second left his gun. He heard a low, deep, cry escape his victims lips – and the sound of panic as the rest of the room realised what was happening.

He raced forwards as he found another bit of rusted machinery to hide behind – this one a lot smaller, but big enough to conceal him from the room.

He glanced across and saw Warren hidden behind a similar item on the far side of the room.

"Brady?" Danny called out. "It better not be you, Brady. I warned you about what would happen if you FUCKED ME ABOUT!"

Shit. He sounded really fucking angry.

During his run forwards Brendan had been vaguely aware of the reaction through the room. He'd reached the spot he stood at now without Danny having seen him – and he hoped that meant he hadn't seen Warren either.

Maybe he would still believe he'd come alone.

He heard a groan coming from just behind him – realised it must have been the guy he'd shot – and he knew he hadn't killed him. He chanced a glance around the room in Warren's direction, and saw another body out cold on the floor.

Warren had killed his man.

Brendan looked across at Warren and held up his index finger to indicate the number 1, and then sliced it across his throat. Warren nodded – he understood. One dead. Three to go.

They both stood up straight as they heard a click from behind them.

They both knew that sound.

They ducked as Danny started firing blind. He had no idea where they were – they'd been too quick and they were well hidden with all the old machinery in this end of the warehouse – but they knew it meant he was on to them.

He wasn't too panicked though – if there was one thing he knew about Danny Houston, it was that the guy had the worst aim he'd ever known.

Brendan flung his arm around from the machinery and fired – once, twice, three times – but it did nothing other than indicate his location to Danny.

Warren held back, trying to signal something to Brendan that he couldn't quite make out, but something else got Brendan's attention before he could decipher Warren's message.

"Brendan!" Ste called out to him, and his insides lurched forwards.

He ran out from where he was, gun raised, but stopped dead when he saw what was before him.

"Danny, what you doing?" he urged as the colour drained from his face

Danny was stood behind Steven, gun raised, pointing straight to the back of his head.

"I thought I warned you about this," Danny said with a smile on his face.

Cold-hearted bastard.

"I thought I said better not make a fuss, or I'd kill him," he continued.

Brendan couldn't focus on his words. All he could see was Steven – tears streaming down his face, blood seeping from so many different cuts on his face now, and more from the back of his head.

He was mouthing something to him – something Steven felt he needed to say – something Brendan wasn't close to being ready to hear and so he didn't let it register.

It was the kind of thing you tell someone when you think you're about to die.

And he wasn't ready to let that happen

"Leave the kid out of this, Danny," Brendan pleaded, attempting to keep his voice indifferent but all too aware of the panic that was seeping out of it.

"Now why would I do that?" Danny asked callously. "When he's the only thing that makes you sit up and listen?"

Brendan swallowed down hard. He wasn't going to deny it.

He heard the click of the safety on Danny's gun again, and his body reacted before his mind had chance to catch up. He panicked – he knew that sound meant Danny was getting ready to shoot – that he was serious; he couldn't let Steven get hurt.

He promised to protect him.

And he was going to die trying.

He ran towards Danny, arms outstretched, gun aiming ahead of him as he got closer. He wanted to shoot, but there was no way he was going to take aim with Steven in between them.

He glanced at the boy and everything happened so quickly. He noticed Steven's attention being drawn to something behind him, and he could hear him shouting his name, and it sounded like a warning – but it was too late.

The third of Danny's body guards – the one that wasn't killed by Warren's gun nor lying passed out cold from the loss of blood from Brendan's bullet wound – the one neither of them had got to, rounded on him, crowbar in hand, and struck him round the throat.

He was flung backwards with the force of it, watching Steven get further away from him as his body catapulted back across the warehouse floor, the gun released from his grip and flung across to the other side of the expansive space, banging against he machinery at the back of the room that had hidden him moments earlier.

"BRENDAN!" he heard Steven shout, and he knew it was going to happen again, recognised his cries as a warning, but he was choking and wheezing and struggling for breath so much from the force of the impact on his windpipe to be able to stand up and fight off the second attack.

He looked up and saw the man approaching again – noticed his muscular arms, and the skull tattoo on his upper arm – and stood himself up just in time to feel the weight of the crowbar against his stomach. He doubled over in pain – sure he could hear the crack of a rib breaking on the impact – and the sudden image of his father flashed before him.

He shook his head – shook the image away from his thoughts – and looked up just in time to see the crowbar angling towards his head. He dodged it – threw his body to the left with centimetres to spare – and heard the loud grunt from his attacker as the momentum carried him forwards, almost toppling over with the unexpected lack of impact now that Brendan had moved himself out of the path of his weapon.

Brendan laughed sinisterly, taking advantage of the brief pause to get himself to his feet again, his footsteps stuttered as his body swayed in it's weakening state. He watched his attacker level back on his feet, and had a moment of realisation.

This fucker might be twice his size – might have muscles bigger than his own head and a crowbar in his possession – but everybody had a weakness. You just had to work out what it was – and Brendan had found his. He was sluggish. He was too strong for his own good – his muscles making him heavy; the opposite of effortless.

Brendan could work with that.

He fleetingly wondered where Warren had disappeared to, and glanced at Steven to make sure Danny hadn't put a bullet through his head. He noticed Danny had dropped his gun slightly – resting it against Ste's shoulder as he stood and watched the show.

He was about to watch his henchman go down.

Brendan let his attacker come in at him again – let him think Brendan was beat. He gave him one final hit against Brendan's arm with the crowbar.

The next time the weapon was brought down on him, he dodged it to the right this time, and sure enough the giant threw it forward with all his weight and stuttered forwards again. He swung round unexpectedly – using the momentum this time and rounding on himself, raising the crowbar so it struck Brendan clean on the side of his head.

Shit.

He wasn't expecting that - it nearly did him in.

The dull thud as the weapon struck him reverberated around his head, leaving him with a brief moment of dizziness and confusion.

But he glanced at Steven, and he knew he couldn't give up.

He saw the crowbar coming for him again – knew the giant was aiming for his head with every stroke now – knew his orders were to kill and not just maim.

He wasn't going to stand for that.

He jumped back when the weapon came near him, reaching forwards and grabbing onto it, using all his strength to push back against the man mountain of muscle. He tried pushing it against the guy's throat, remembering the way it had made himself wheeze and splutter, but this guy seemed to be made of metal. His strength overwhelmed Brendan – dominated him in a way he had never known before – and the relief that death would bring slowly became appealing to him.

The guy pushed him off – bit down on Brendan's knuckles as they tried to cling on to the crowbar – tried to do anything he could to stop the weapon being used against him once more. It was futile – the animal's teeth bore into his skin, drawing blood, and he let go to accept his fate.

He darted backwards – he'd never be one to run, but he wasn't going to make it easy for the guy to kill him. His eyes followed the weapon as it was raised above his head, and he tried to summon the energy to dodge it this time, but his reserves were running low.

He'd finally been out-done, by a sheer wall of muscle.

He was aware of Danny's voice in the area behind him. Aware of the cockiness that dripped through his tone as he asked Steven what he was going to enjoy the most about watching Brendan die. He heard the boy cry – a blood-curdling cry for help that would chill through the bones of most men.

He let his gaze fall on Steven, and he wished he had more strength inside of him. He'd never known happiness like he had in the few stolen moments he'd shared with the boy.

He should have known he would be no good for the boy. He should have known he was toxic.

He'd promised to protect him – promised he wouldn't let anything happen to him – and yet here he was accepting his own fate as death and ready to leave him to fight his own battles.

He only hoped the boy had been as bad as he had in his life – it was the only way they would meet again on the other side. He was on a one way ride to the furnace and he knew there was no way of going back.

He thought of Eileen, and he thought of his boys. He knew they'd be better off without him, too.

The whole world would be better off without him.

He settled his weary eyes on Steven. If he was going to die, he wanted the boy to be the final thing he saw. He could die with a semblance of a smile on his face, knowing he'd experienced true happiness in his life, if only for a short while. He was about to mouth his final goodbye to the lad – about to let out the three words that had stuck to the back of his throat so many times before – the three words that he couldn't deny any longer; the one's that crept up and surprised him whenever Steven was around. He had to let the boy know how he felt before he gave up on himself.

The need for final goodbyes evaporated in a split second when he noticed the figure approaching Danny from behind.

Foxy.

The sound of his gunshot ricocheted around the room, and the bullet pierced straight through Brendan's attackers chest. He watched from the floor in disbelief as one tiny shard of metal brought his recent nemesis to the ground. Blood poured from his wound, and even more from his mouth, and he dropped to the floor – defeated.

Brendan vowed to never again dispute the need for firearms.

He glanced back up, noticing Danny had spun round to see the source of the killer gunshot, and Brendan visibly relaxed when he realised Danny's gun wasn't pointed at Steven anymore.

Instead, Danny stood with a gun pointed to his own head.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

"Mr Fox," Danny greeted the new arrival, his voice suddenly losing the air of confidence he'd had mere seconds ago.

"Danny boy," Warren responded, voice calm and full of fake charm, like he wasn't about to take this man's life. "Remember me?"

"You're a hard man to forget, Warren," Danny answered, desperately trying to keep the fear and panic from his tone.

"I remember you, Danny," Warren replied coolly. "I remember you very well."

"Yeah?" Danny asked needlessly. He knew there was no way Warren had forgotten him. They had their own history – history that Warren had been prepared to sweep under the carpet after his lottery win and his escape to the good life – but history, still. History of the kind that you never really let lie.

"How about we go for a walk in the hills, Danny," Warren continued, pushing the tip of his gun up against Danny's forehead. "Take a trip down memory lane?"

Brendan watched on with a smile on his face as Warren nudged Danny towards the main door of the warehouse with the tip of his gun. Warren looked over and winked at him as he took Danny outside to do with him as he pleased, leaving Brendan and Ste all alone.

Except for the two dead bodies and one unconscious man on the floor.

But neither of them cared about that.

Brendan found the strength inside of him to stand up and make his way towards the boy.

He took his face in his hands and straddled the boy in the chair, meeting their lips together the moment they were close enough, and in that second his injuries were forgotten.

His body came to life again – his strength renewed as if Steven were the source of it – as if Steven injected him with oxygen and healed his wounds with his touch.

He slid his tongue against the boy's teeth, biting gently on his lower lip, before surging in once more, devouring him with every touch, and Steven responded to his every move.

"Brendan," he mumbled into their kiss, pulling on his restraints to hint that he wanted the older man to untie him. He was reluctant to lose the taste of him on his tongue but even less inclined to go on without being able to touch him.

Brendan pulled away and rounded the chair, untying Ste hurriedly as the boy spoke.

"Brendan, I thought you -"

"Don't, Steven, please," Brendan begged. He couldn't bear to hear Steven utter the words. "Did they hurt you?" he asked as he freed up the hands and moved on to the ropes binding his legs. He looked up at the boy from where he crouched down by his feet, and cast his eyes all around his face – flicking from one wound to the next. They all looked superficial, at least – although Brendan wasn't sure the outside scars would be the only thing Steven would be left with.

"I'm fine Brendan, it's you who had the worst of it," Ste said as he reached his hands out and traced his thumbs along the cuts on Brendan's face, making their way round to the gash on the side of his head. Brendan leant his head into Ste's palm instinctively, and Ste smiled to himself at the gesture.

Brendan freed the last of Ste's binds, and pulled on the lad's hands to stand him up out of the chair. He pulled him forwards, drawing a laugh out of the boy as he did so, and let him fall into his arms.

He held him, wrapping his arms around him tighter than he had ever held anyone before, and swallowed down the well of emotion in his throat as Steven held him back. He nestled his face into the crook of the boy's neck, breathing in the unmistakable smell of Steven.

He was back in his arms; he was safe. For now.

Brendan's injuries were forgotten. The throbbing in his head was drifting away to a weak excuse for a headache; the weariness of his muscles renewed with the thrill that was coursing through his body, unmistakeably reaching _that _place as Steven brushed up against him; the pain from his cracked rib almost insignificant as Steven squeezed his grip on him further. None of it mattered now that he was alive, and Steven was alive, and he was wrapped around him like he belonged to him and him alone.

He was losing control over himself; losing the ability to see past the perfection that stood before him, embracing him. He had a sudden, uncontrollable need to show the boy – to make sure he knew what he meant to him. He lifted him, Steven responding by lifting his legs and wrapping them around Brendan's waist.

He pulled his head back from where it rested on Steven's shoulder, and looked to the boy to see the same look of lust and uncontrollable desire reflected back at him.

Neither of them could control it; neither of them wanted to. Right in that moment, none of it mattered. It didn't matter that they were both hurt and aching and covered in the blood from their injuries; it didn't matter than Warren was outside having a Mexican stand off with the instrument of their demise; it didn't matter that Brendan had accepted his own demise into hell mere minutes earlier.

None of it mattered now he had this moment with Steven.

He walked backwards, Steven still wrapped around him like a koala bear, and laughed as he carried on backwards, stopping only when Steven's back connected with one of the metal pillars.

Brendan watched Steven laugh, and devoured the delectable sound with a searing kiss against his glistening lips. Steven responded with just as much need and desire, biting and kissing and licking the inside of Brendan's mouth, eliciting a groan of undeniable pleasure from his bruised and broken mouth.

Brendan couldn't stop himself – couldn't control the animal within him from taking what he needed from Steven. He'd come so close to losing the boy – to never experiencing the immense pleasure that he'd gotten so used to milking from the boy over the past couple of days – and he needed it; _needed _to be inside of the lad again now more than ever.

He fisted his hand in between their flush bodies, reaching for Steven's waistband, sinking his hand inside and connecting with his more than semi-hardening length.

"Yes," Ste encouraged him – he was just as desperate for this as Brendan was.

Ste dropped his legs from their grip around Brendan's waist and placed his feet back on the floor once again, pressing his lips hungrily against Brendan's neck and back up to his lips as he hurriedly undid the button and fly on the Irishman's jeans.

"You want this?" Brendan growled as he bit down on Ste's earlobe.

"Fuck me," Ste begged shamelessly, and before he'd even finished speaking Brendan had yanked his shorts down to his ankles.

Ste stepped out of his shorts as Brendan pushed the weight of his body against Ste, letting him raise his legs around his waist again, and his lips connected back with Brendan's.

Brendan knew Ste needed this just as much as he did. He needed to feel the warmth of Brendan's body against his own; he needed to feel this connection with the man stood before him – this one person who seemed to understand what the two of them shared more than any other person could ever understand.

Brendan slicked his fingers with saliva and reach behind him, preparing Ste quickly, groaning into the passionate kiss they shared as he felt the lad's hand working away at his dick.

He wasn't sure he had ever been harder, and when Ste flinched, moving himself into position, he was so much more than ready to fuck him senseless that all reason and sensibility flew out of the window. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only, and that was drawing out sweet pleasure in the midst of all this pain.

Ste sunk down on his hardened length, and Brendan thrust up into him, and he knew he'd never felt anything so _right _before in his life.

He thrust into him, hurried right from the start, and he felt the boy wince with the pain he undoubtedly felt as he breached up into him, inch by powerful inch; but he took it, and he breathed through it right into Brendan's mouth as he kissed the pain away.

He didn't let up, didn't back down in his assault on Steven's body, pushing up into him quick and hurried; reaching in between them and fisting his dick until his body was jerking up against him, shoots of liquid pleasure flowing out of him, calling out Brendan's name as his orgasm tore through him.

The pulsing of his body milked Brendan's climax out of him, and seconds later he was coming into Ste's body, groaning with the heightened pleasure, sure there was something _different _about this; something _raw. _The realisation hit him as the remainder of his orgasm pulsed out of him, and he pulled his cock out of Steven's body like it was physically hurting the boy, and he masked his shame at how reckless they'd just been by pulling Ste's body close to him and nestling his head in his shoulder.

He knew he was clean – he'd been through all that before – and he knew he was Steven's first. But it was still reckless. _Unsafe. _

He'd never been so caught up in the moment that he hadn't even thought to stop for precautions before.

He didn't have long to dwell on his thoughts as they both jumped up at the sound of the warehouse door creaking open and crashing closed behind them.

"Well, ain't this romantic," Danny smirked.

The bullet left his gun before he'd given either of them chance to respond.


End file.
